FML; my mother deleted all the tabs I had up, so I had to go reload them: one of these tabs included the nice and long post I had before she shoved me off >:/
Getting around the territory was already becoming easier for the large grey warrior as he explored, getting to know the scent markers and happy for them. Had he been alone in the wilderness, he certainly could've survived, but finding himself in an entirely new place? Oh most certainly. For whatever reason, the moon had decided not to bless Noss with the power to navigate as readily as his counterparts, if at all. Had one been looking from a completely objective point of view, they would deduce that the reason behind this would be because he would never meet anyone new or even try to do so. As was his case as he went further into a Long Gone settlement, which he had heard whispers of.
The last time Noss had been through a well-developed Long Gone city, he had discovered the oddest things and trappings; although by far the newest commodity had been alcohol. Now, Noss knew how Strel got when he was overly drunk, but he also knew that his lover had quite the penchant for the drink. Honestly, so long as Strel had a drinking buddy, Noss would not mind at all. And then the strangest thing had happened when he thought about this; he wanted to bring some home as a gift to Strel. The grey behemoth knew that Strel had abstained for awhile because he thought Noss disapproved, but Strel was a grown man, and more than entitled to his fancies. Little did he know that when he went into the decrepit ruins that a scent--that of a loner--would hit his nose. He knew this because it was fresh and not even particularly drenched in the Cour des Miracles marking, and Noss felt the fur on his hackles raise. Proceeding with caution--knowing neither the danger of the potential foe or harmless passerby--Noss followed the scent, coming upon a large and yet still intact building. Entering, he was then greeted by the sound of clinking glass and footsteps.
In a room with tables and a long bar, there was a female--young, and more dog than wolf--rattling some bottles together. With a thought he knew the bottles for his own shopping target, but he was more concerned about why she was in the pack. Clearing his throat and crossing his arms, his muscle-bulk blocking the doorway, Noss stared at the woman with pale yellow eyes, piercing her in a way that only a warrior could. His stance and posture said it all: 'Care to explain?' Granted, had it been a male, Noss would've immediately leaped into the fray, but as it was, it was a female--those of the gender that Noss had a hard time dealing with.
Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.
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