07-19-2008, 01:43 PM
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OOC: Please do! I'm liking Mew/Lubomir loads and I will definitely look forward to your PM!
Lubomir had never spoken to anyone so openly, even with Skoll he felt as if he'd held back slightly, because the male felt daunted by the warrior's size. Skoll, the one who had been strong enough to leave pack lands, Skoll, who braved so many horrible things and gained so much wisdom and Lubomir, sheltered little weak Lubomir and his silly quests for knowledge, his search for something meaningful which turned out not to be meaningful at all. He'd seen a lot of bloodshed and violence, yes, but he felt humbled by it, in now way stronger or better. He abhorred the sight of meaningless spilt blood, especially when those involved were simple innocent bystanders.
It was that electrifying smile which caught him again, sending shivers down his spine and jolting his stomach. She came alive when he told her of his former rank and she was so much more beautiful for it. He could imagine her love of music and song, stories, her cherished position in the pack. As far as Lubomir was concerned, Bards held the wisdom of the pack, they were the repositories of all knowledge, they were the ones who taught others. That she had held such a position spoke volumes of her talent. He smiled at her and replied, 'My pack did not see the need for a Bard in the beginning. I was the Alpha female's brother and because of her I got the chance to go and further my talents. I spent months in the cities, learning how to read and write. I was mainly a storyteller, but soon I was an uncle and the importance of reading and writing fell on my shoulders, so I taught my niece and nephews how to do so.' He listened intently as she spoke of her mother and tried to path his journey to the cities inhabited by the shifters. They were traders and warriors, sailors and scholars, a world, he realised, was far more advanced than this one. A world he rather missed. 'I might do. I have met many wolves like you, my angel, all of them in cities, all of them more independent than the one I have met here. They trade and learn and travel. However, if they spoke Norwegian, they never spoke it around me. We all tried to piece together English, though many knew more than one language. Do you miss those places, my beauty?' Lubomir had to wonder of himself: given the chance to go back, would he take it?
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OOC: Please do! I'm liking Mew/Lubomir loads and I will definitely look forward to your PM!
Lubomir had never spoken to anyone so openly, even with Skoll he felt as if he'd held back slightly, because the male felt daunted by the warrior's size. Skoll, the one who had been strong enough to leave pack lands, Skoll, who braved so many horrible things and gained so much wisdom and Lubomir, sheltered little weak Lubomir and his silly quests for knowledge, his search for something meaningful which turned out not to be meaningful at all. He'd seen a lot of bloodshed and violence, yes, but he felt humbled by it, in now way stronger or better. He abhorred the sight of meaningless spilt blood, especially when those involved were simple innocent bystanders.
It was that electrifying smile which caught him again, sending shivers down his spine and jolting his stomach. She came alive when he told her of his former rank and she was so much more beautiful for it. He could imagine her love of music and song, stories, her cherished position in the pack. As far as Lubomir was concerned, Bards held the wisdom of the pack, they were the repositories of all knowledge, they were the ones who taught others. That she had held such a position spoke volumes of her talent. He smiled at her and replied, 'My pack did not see the need for a Bard in the beginning. I was the Alpha female's brother and because of her I got the chance to go and further my talents. I spent months in the cities, learning how to read and write. I was mainly a storyteller, but soon I was an uncle and the importance of reading and writing fell on my shoulders, so I taught my niece and nephews how to do so.' He listened intently as she spoke of her mother and tried to path his journey to the cities inhabited by the shifters. They were traders and warriors, sailors and scholars, a world, he realised, was far more advanced than this one. A world he rather missed. 'I might do. I have met many wolves like you, my angel, all of them in cities, all of them more independent than the one I have met here. They trade and learn and travel. However, if they spoke Norwegian, they never spoke it around me. We all tried to piece together English, though many knew more than one language. Do you miss those places, my beauty?' Lubomir had to wonder of himself: given the chance to go back, would he take it?