<3 Yay, postings!
at least the ones i got away with
The footsteps were, for the most part, ignored as they approached, though once the dull voice spoke, the maturing pup had to look up and set his eyes on the face in front of him. Hola. A word he didn't understand, but one he took as greeting due to its place as the first spoken thing. A snort escaped his crucifix-marked nose, eyes peering past the spokes of the Chaos star to study the man present. Hola. He was looking to interaction. He came to study his mother's work. Priest offered a smile, though small and less than pleasant.
You come to see the artwork, I guess, he mused, turning his eyes back to Talitha's piece of art. Woman who made this is gone now, but she made a lot of things. The Aquila has a few. The painted skulls, the ones that are red and blues and covered with faces of people around Inferni? She made a bunch of those too. He shrugged as he explained, not really caring, but wanting to offer his mother the proper respect for her useless talents. She was a dreamer. She always had been, the reason she held on to a brother who was a fighter and a father who didn't want her.
He stood on four paws, wrinkling his nose and studying the painting with earnest, his red eyes scanning the faces. There was the golden man, his uncle Ezekiel, alongside a dark creature with marks like his mother -- he assumed it was his grandfather, but he couldn't remember the man's face. To the side, there was the mottled body of a man he would never meet, but one he had been told of. A man he knew through story, a man his sister was named for. Hybrid Holocaust. A father he would always deny, for he was, in the eyes of the pack who knew him before, an Ulrich. Mother liked to paint, I guess. Even after. She used to paint Sa'adat. He smirked at the memories of the petite jackal with images of the forest and the city on her fur.
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