06-03-2008, 03:27 PM
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OOC: Sorry for being so stupidly late with this. It's a cool story exchange.
Lubomir closed his eyes and took deep breaths. His tale was finally finished. There was very little he could add to it now and the details, the fine print, was just bagatelle, colour. In a human comparison, Lubomir had drawn the big pictures, the contours and had coloured it in roughly. He had not been here long enough to paint the full picture, because he simply could not trust them enough. Yet. But his attention snapped back when Skoll mentioned a lack of sympathy in wolves. Granted, he'd had issues with his family and he'd lost contact with his parents, but his life had always seemed to be seeped with a strange sense of belonging and of needing to belong. 'Then your wolves are different from those of the Old Country. I do not mean to say there are no vicious murderers there, but from your words... Skoll do you mean to say that here they do not care?' No...this could not be. Surely they were more educated here, violence was not so prominent. It pained Lubomir to think that mindless killing could span borders so seamlessly.
The grey wolf knew very little about the surrounding packs. In the months to come, he would experience more of it than he'd initially bargained for. However, here and now, he was still a newbie, a lost little pup in a world he knew very little about. To have his tale called a tragedy made him feel slightly like a character in a book or a play, some sort of dashing hero who, against all odds, defeats fate and gets the girl. Lubomir had only managed to survive the great wilderness and there was certainly no princess to save. No glory to be had at the end of all this. It had simply been a great fight, mostly against himself, and he had been a winner. If this was what winning felt like. 'Please do not make me into a hero. I did nothing worthy of your words.' This was no false modesty. If anything, Lubomir felt slightly embarrassed, to think Skoll regarded him so highly. 'I merely survived.'
Lubomir considered the offer. He was not tired, or hungry and he could feel gnawing curiosity. Skoll was older, tougher, wiser. There was much he could learn. Indeed, it might do him good to listen to the stories of others. Perhaps one day he could pass on Skoll's story, to an eager batch of pups. Stories of integrity, courage and valour. 'I would be honoured to listen to you, Skoll.' His tone was sincere and his eyes shone with delight and eagerness. For once, Lubomir would be the one enchanted.
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Lubomir closed his eyes and took deep breaths. His tale was finally finished. There was very little he could add to it now and the details, the fine print, was just bagatelle, colour. In a human comparison, Lubomir had drawn the big pictures, the contours and had coloured it in roughly. He had not been here long enough to paint the full picture, because he simply could not trust them enough. Yet. But his attention snapped back when Skoll mentioned a lack of sympathy in wolves. Granted, he'd had issues with his family and he'd lost contact with his parents, but his life had always seemed to be seeped with a strange sense of belonging and of needing to belong. 'Then your wolves are different from those of the Old Country. I do not mean to say there are no vicious murderers there, but from your words... Skoll do you mean to say that here they do not care?' No...this could not be. Surely they were more educated here, violence was not so prominent. It pained Lubomir to think that mindless killing could span borders so seamlessly.
The grey wolf knew very little about the surrounding packs. In the months to come, he would experience more of it than he'd initially bargained for. However, here and now, he was still a newbie, a lost little pup in a world he knew very little about. To have his tale called a tragedy made him feel slightly like a character in a book or a play, some sort of dashing hero who, against all odds, defeats fate and gets the girl. Lubomir had only managed to survive the great wilderness and there was certainly no princess to save. No glory to be had at the end of all this. It had simply been a great fight, mostly against himself, and he had been a winner. If this was what winning felt like. 'Please do not make me into a hero. I did nothing worthy of your words.' This was no false modesty. If anything, Lubomir felt slightly embarrassed, to think Skoll regarded him so highly. 'I merely survived.'
Lubomir considered the offer. He was not tired, or hungry and he could feel gnawing curiosity. Skoll was older, tougher, wiser. There was much he could learn. Indeed, it might do him good to listen to the stories of others. Perhaps one day he could pass on Skoll's story, to an eager batch of pups. Stories of integrity, courage and valour. 'I would be honoured to listen to you, Skoll.' His tone was sincere and his eyes shone with delight and eagerness. For once, Lubomir would be the one enchanted.