03-23-2010, 10:54 PM
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Boredom caused his thoughts to wander, stealing the wolfhound from reality and into the realm of fantasy. He thought of the clouds, and of rain and then the ocean. The ocean reminded him of sailing, and then his home back in Ireland. He’d been born there, but at this point he wasn’t sure whether he’d spent more time traveling, or more time in the green country he’d once called home. The memories all blurred together, fading his concept of time until he couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot on the emerald isle. A sudden, painful nostalgia swept over him and he sat up, running a hand across his face as again the loneliness set in. He was a social creature with anti-social tendencies and just to have someone to talk to would be a valued commodity. Even more suddenly than his rather sudden wave of distress, and with the surprising ferocity of a hurricane, something came hurling toward him at an incredible speed, sending the wolfhound sprawling face-first onto the grass. Lights flashed before his eyes and a cry issued roughly from his mouth, utterly confused as to what’d just happened. He could smell another canine, and hear a voice stammering apologizes, but it wasn’t until he’d rose into a more dignified position that he was truly able to assess the situation. ”Me hurt ye?” he cried out half amused, once he’d assured himself he’d not been seriously injured. “Yer the one come crashin’ roughly into me, so ye did!” But her fear and apparent distress caused his mock accusations to diminish once green eyes finally assessed the female, changing his tone to one of a much realer concern. “Calm down,” he said gently, torn between the instinct to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder and uncertainty to how she’d react, so his claws recoiled. ”Now, who exactly are ye and whaddya mean runnin’ into me, eh?” He didn’t particularly enjoy anyone betraying fear toward him. He prided himself on being non-confrontational and overall peaceful. |