voices from home
#2
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Sounds good to me. Thanks for starting. :3


He was doused in the reek of smoke, bathing in the smell emanating from the stick balancing loosely at the tip of his tongue. It wasn't the coldest of days, luckily lacking the high wind that made the smoking experience all the more distasteful; the bitter frigidity of the winter was numbed by the twirling of his head, and as far as Razekiel was concerned, it was beach weather. Perhaps that was why he was so commonly found wandering the coast -- blasted out of his mind -- praising the glorious wonders of Father Ocean by shouting out nonsense to the crashing waves that hardly the seagulls could even hear.


For now, though, he had other things to do. He'd meandered the territory some that morning, carrying the makeshift "Make love, not war!" sign he'd crafted together a few days after the war broke out. Any of his fellow packmates that had seen it had chosen not to comment; he didn't know them, but it was probably for the better. For now, his blood-loving comrades let him be in his peaceful rebellion, otherwise not bothering to intrude or knock him back into reality. Snow had started to drift, flakes scattered in the wind wildly as he moved along, sign held high in the air as he went back to picketing after his smoke break; the second he spotted a character also moving past he froze, not recognizing the back of their head as being something he'd seen at the clan's war meeting some time prior. Ah! A child, so easy to persuade. Someone to help him, surely, else at least hear him out, even if she was only on four legs at the time. This was a time for peace, after all!


Grinning wildly, the coyote quickened his wobbly pace faster to catch up with the small little thing, though when he gained some proximity he froze again. Straw eyes opened wide -- quite unusual for a blazed creature like he -- and the sign dropped out of his hand. His voice crawled from his throat, masked with befuddlement: "Sage?"


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