[/html]No worries~.
As children, she and her sister had been the brunt of much teasing by the children of Thornloe. Myrika, for her wolfish size, and Cassandra for her abnormal coloration. Their father taught them it was foolish to judge by appearances alone, but nonetheless assured them that gabs were harmless, and that they needed to be more confident in themselves. The pallid child appeared to brush things off easily enough, becoming a quiet and aloof adolescent, indifferent about her appearance. But venturing out into the world affirmed that people did very much live by judgments of appearance, foolish or not.
And yet, it was the first time she would be gawked at, not for her white coat or red eyes, but for what had to be the point of her muzzle and the largeness of her ears. Of course she wasn't a wolf. She'd never been mistaken for a wolf in her life. Who were these strange dogs that could not recognize a coyote?
The woman walked forward several paces more, and the surprise slid from her face, replaced with caution and suspicion. "A mutt," she said matter-of-factly, though there was a challenge in her tone. So what? "Coyote, wolf, and dog are all in my blood." And what else was there, really? Jackals? She'd read about them, but had never seen nor met one. They were from oceans away, after all. "And you. Pure dogs," she identified aloud, "What breeds?"
She had only encountered a few dogs before, but each of them seemed so match exactly the pictures she'd seen in books, bred to a human's idea of perfection. Clearly they've mostly chosen to continue with the obsession of purity and "breed standards" after their masters' demise, and Cassandra could not help but feel a bit of contempt. Her father had told her not to judge, but she was judging their apparent preoccupiation with appearances, rather than appearances themselves. Or so said the justification in her head. Perhaps she was no better, but she could accept that too, well enough.
| Messages In This Thread |