02-12-2010, 01:33 PM
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OOC: ::Word Count:: 700+
Curiousity was making it hard for the pale-furred Crimson Dreamer not to look at the stranger in front of her. There was nothing unique in the way he looked-- if anything, he seemed to be more like a warrior that had seen the worst side of a battle as well as the best one, and although that initially brought thoughts of former glory, his appearance flooded Urma with compassion more than admiration. She pulled her ears back in discomfort, knowing that the sympathy with which she wanted to reach out to him was fueled mainly by a sense of pity, a feeling she knew did no one much justice. By the ironic tone in the male’s voice she could tell that he did not feel comfortable with strangers exactly for this reason, and it had been the knowledge that many were inclined to pity him that had made him sound, for the smallest moment, hostile. This unwelcoming attire was not new to Urma; she had seen it in other wolves in her former pack, the ones whom, despite being part of a pack, rarely gathered with the others except during a hunt or a meal. As a pup she had never understood their need for solitude, but lately, remembering them, she found it easy to understand that certain things that affect an individual are best kept away from the rest of the community. She knew very well, though through very different circumstances, what it felt like to want to shun away everyone else and, for lack of a means of achieving this, making sure that people’s first impression of you could be summed up as a strong dislike.
Of course, knowing that staring at the male would have been extremely impolite and highly inappropriate, she had been careful about her manner around him, never keeping her eyes dwelling on a single distinguishing feature of his unusual appearance, but neither averting her gaze from him. The fact that her eyes had a warm texture because of their unremarkable amber colour gave her expression a soft glow, so that she would not be perceived as anything less than what she was-- honest. If she would not be able to suppress a reaction, her eyes would be sure to betray her, and he would undoubtedly know that she was misleading him; as the case stood, however, she could think of no reason why deceit would serve her purpose better than truth, and she could tell by the way this wolf seemed to sum up a person with his eyes that he would not find her attempts at mistaking him for a fool worthy of anything else but contempt.
When he talked, Urma’s ears went up at once, keen to gather everything the stranger had to say. It was with a hint of disappointment, but also of delight that she received his first statement. While the short sentence had a streak of sarcasm lacing its words, she could feel that he wasn’t being as ironic as before, even if he wasn’t being admiring either; it was simply a way for the pearl femme to tell that her honesty was indeed of some value in the male’s eyes. As he continued in what was definitely meant to sound an uninterested way, she allowed herself a step or two forward, although his answer did not please her very much. She couldn’t understand how someone could not get along with Naniko, who seemed to Urma a very lively, gentle she-wolf.
“What about the former, then?” the white female asked, in regards to Geneva. She was amused by the male’s way of talking, and she was decided that she could spare a bit of her time on a conversation with him. He had a different way of being interesting, and it was of a kind that Urma was not familiar with, which in turn increased her curiousity. Her tone as neutral as it could ever be, the blanched Crimson Dreamer continued, “My name would make little difference to you; I am no one of importance. But I will give it to you nonetheless, because you ask it, not demand it. I am Urma. And who would you be, then, if I may ask so myself?” She allowed her voice to lapse into its warm, gentle hues, wanting this change to serve as a reassurance for the male that her intentions had in no way changed.
Curiousity was making it hard for the pale-furred Crimson Dreamer not to look at the stranger in front of her. There was nothing unique in the way he looked-- if anything, he seemed to be more like a warrior that had seen the worst side of a battle as well as the best one, and although that initially brought thoughts of former glory, his appearance flooded Urma with compassion more than admiration. She pulled her ears back in discomfort, knowing that the sympathy with which she wanted to reach out to him was fueled mainly by a sense of pity, a feeling she knew did no one much justice. By the ironic tone in the male’s voice she could tell that he did not feel comfortable with strangers exactly for this reason, and it had been the knowledge that many were inclined to pity him that had made him sound, for the smallest moment, hostile. This unwelcoming attire was not new to Urma; she had seen it in other wolves in her former pack, the ones whom, despite being part of a pack, rarely gathered with the others except during a hunt or a meal. As a pup she had never understood their need for solitude, but lately, remembering them, she found it easy to understand that certain things that affect an individual are best kept away from the rest of the community. She knew very well, though through very different circumstances, what it felt like to want to shun away everyone else and, for lack of a means of achieving this, making sure that people’s first impression of you could be summed up as a strong dislike.
Of course, knowing that staring at the male would have been extremely impolite and highly inappropriate, she had been careful about her manner around him, never keeping her eyes dwelling on a single distinguishing feature of his unusual appearance, but neither averting her gaze from him. The fact that her eyes had a warm texture because of their unremarkable amber colour gave her expression a soft glow, so that she would not be perceived as anything less than what she was-- honest. If she would not be able to suppress a reaction, her eyes would be sure to betray her, and he would undoubtedly know that she was misleading him; as the case stood, however, she could think of no reason why deceit would serve her purpose better than truth, and she could tell by the way this wolf seemed to sum up a person with his eyes that he would not find her attempts at mistaking him for a fool worthy of anything else but contempt.
When he talked, Urma’s ears went up at once, keen to gather everything the stranger had to say. It was with a hint of disappointment, but also of delight that she received his first statement. While the short sentence had a streak of sarcasm lacing its words, she could feel that he wasn’t being as ironic as before, even if he wasn’t being admiring either; it was simply a way for the pearl femme to tell that her honesty was indeed of some value in the male’s eyes. As he continued in what was definitely meant to sound an uninterested way, she allowed herself a step or two forward, although his answer did not please her very much. She couldn’t understand how someone could not get along with Naniko, who seemed to Urma a very lively, gentle she-wolf.
“What about the former, then?” the white female asked, in regards to Geneva. She was amused by the male’s way of talking, and she was decided that she could spare a bit of her time on a conversation with him. He had a different way of being interesting, and it was of a kind that Urma was not familiar with, which in turn increased her curiousity. Her tone as neutral as it could ever be, the blanched Crimson Dreamer continued, “My name would make little difference to you; I am no one of importance. But I will give it to you nonetheless, because you ask it, not demand it. I am Urma. And who would you be, then, if I may ask so myself?” She allowed her voice to lapse into its warm, gentle hues, wanting this change to serve as a reassurance for the male that her intentions had in no way changed.