07-28-2011, 09:05 PM
As the stranger finally told Chapel her name, the coyote visibly relaxed. Without a name, the unknown was just... unreachable, cold, without personality, but now she had an identity. This made Chapel feel much more at home than before, but still she remained closed off and impassive. An unfamiliar word breached her consciousness -- optio? For now, the female coyote let it pass, but she made a mental note to inquire about it later.
Sage seemed to be trying extremely hard to get her to open up, as if to release all of her thoughts, past, and where she came from in a fountain of words. That wasn't how Chapel rolled.
The coyote figured that the words 'many things' wouldn't pass very far, and in that she was correct. Only moments later she was asked to specify. For a moment, the word "kill" seemed to want to pass through her jaws as casually as if she was talking about the day's weather. Right before she said it, she refrained and quickly held her tongue. Chapel's brow furrowed and she wondered, "Well, what AM I good at?" Nothing came to mind, for her imagination and creative mindset was not allowed to flourish -- stomped out like a weed. For, what was it good for anyway? She was to be trained as an assassin. Not as a philosopher or artist. "I guess I'm good at.. hunting..." the female responded warily. Her tail fell and she felt disappointment swell through her. "How can I expect a pack to accept me if I have nothing to offer, and nothing good on my résumé? "I am good at following orders unconditionally." she said almost robotically, after thinking about it for a bit.
Sage seemed to be trying extremely hard to get her to open up, as if to release all of her thoughts, past, and where she came from in a fountain of words. That wasn't how Chapel rolled.
The coyote figured that the words 'many things' wouldn't pass very far, and in that she was correct. Only moments later she was asked to specify. For a moment, the word "kill" seemed to want to pass through her jaws as casually as if she was talking about the day's weather. Right before she said it, she refrained and quickly held her tongue. Chapel's brow furrowed and she wondered, "Well, what AM I good at?" Nothing came to mind, for her imagination and creative mindset was not allowed to flourish -- stomped out like a weed. For, what was it good for anyway? She was to be trained as an assassin. Not as a philosopher or artist. "I guess I'm good at.. hunting..." the female responded warily. Her tail fell and she felt disappointment swell through her. "How can I expect a pack to accept me if I have nothing to offer, and nothing good on my résumé? "I am good at following orders unconditionally." she said almost robotically, after thinking about it for a bit.