(317) haha, my css was destroying everything. :c
The nervousness bit and nibbled at her. Though she found her confidence quickly waning, the russet-hued woman steeled herself. She would not turn back -- to turn back was regression. It would do her no damn good to head back the way she had come, and she repeated this silently to herself over and over again. It became her mantra as the long minutes ticked by, and slowly, the red-haired coyote felt her anxiousness dissipate.
Despite her initial nervousness, there was an undeniable tide of excitement, as well. There was family here, more than she had ever imagined. She had been warned -- they would not accept her here, they were mad, they were beyond any sort of salvation. Luckily for Myrika, she was not looking to save anyone, nor was she seeking assimilation. Curiosity fueled this visit, though she was quite open to the possibility of establishing herself here. That is, if she was even accepted to begin with.
A figure moved in the distance, and Myri peered at it sharply, turquoise eyes focused intently on the distant motion. The figure moved closer, and the hybrid saw red fur splotched with black and tan and sharp red eyes that seemed to burn and smolder, though there was no overt anger she could see on the stranger's face. Myrika did not make eye contact; instead, her eyes focused on the other canine's feet. Myrika Tears, she responded, and quickly. Rachias Tears is my mother. I've come to join, she added, as if that was not obvious -- Farai was laden with all of her worldly possessions. She sat awkwardly on the horse's back, wondering if she should slide to the earth and prostrate herself before this coyote. Was it expected of her? A hundred questions fluttered in her mind, and Myri found herself paralyzed where she sat, awaiting instruction or rejection or open acceptance.
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