[J] Fondest dreams

Wayne McCoy · 04-23-2012, 02:29 PM

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Pardon my Google-translated French. Tongue

The chocolate-colored woman grinned at his approach, and Wayne could only figure that she’d liked something about him or perhaps even just the prospect of someone greeting her. It was amazing how many new recruits they’d gotten lately; word of the warrior pack had spread far and wide, even if they hadn’t done anything substantial yet. Part of him hoped they wouldn’t have to rush into battle to keep the peace in the lands, but helping keep the peace by any means brought honor to who was once just a humble rancher from the south.

He was used to weird looks and head-tilts when he greeted others, as most canines here seemed to be from the north or even other continents. His southern drawl and dialect was a part of who he was, though, and dropping the habit would be impossible. He smiled, putting a hand on his old hat when a wind threatened to take it from his head.

The woman answered his question in stilted, accent English, which was far from what the cowboy had expected. He understood her, though, and when she offered that French was her native language, he nodded. There were plenty other foreign wolves within Casa di Cavalieri, and he knew for a fact that Ismeme spoke French, so there shouldn’t be much of a problem. His apprentice Adelle was learning English now as well.

After introducing the big mare as Dalia and a little marten as Elroy, she asked for his name. He obliged gladly. Wayne McCoy. He smiled thoughtfully then added, Il ya de nombreux guerriers ici. His accent all but mangled the French statement, and the words came very slowly, but he was pleased to know he’d remembered his mother’s lessons. It wasn’t much, but it might make communicating with the woman easy enough, and he understood very basic French better than he spoke it.

Quels…talents…avez-vous pour nous? Wayne asked next, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he clearly struggled. Like… Chasse. Lutter. Guérison. He gestured awkwardly and grinned helplessly at her. We’d like t’ welcome ya, if you have skills to help the pack, he said in English this time, shrugging. He looked fondly at the horse again.

And then he remembered she hadn’t introduced herself, only her companions, and flashed her a little smirk. Comment t’appelles tu? the mongrel asked more smoothly.

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