[p] get-up-in-the-morning glories

Shiloh Dawnbringer · 10-15-2012, 06:47 PM

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Okay, finally replied to this!

Saul snorted as she addressed the bottle, but he didn’t seem offended by the choice and seemed to accept that it was more a joke than anything—though she didn’t know if they really would need it to loosen their tongues. She hoped that he could be forthcoming with her without the alcohol, though, and maybe the bottle would be one of celebration, of gentle warmth in their bellies that would help them get to sleep tonight. She truly didn’t want this gift from Vinátta to be used for any other purpose.

Shiloh tasted salt when she licked her lips, noticing the direction he was guiding her in. She couldn’t say she’d visited the shoreline yet, only because there was so much of it lining Nova Scotia, while the pack’s rich forests were far more unique. The steady sound of the waves did remind her of her life as a yearling in Dahlia de Mai, though, and unexpectedly that roar comforted her, bringing a sense that things were okay even if memories of Dahlia and their childhood were long past.

She looked across at the bay as they reached the sandy shore, settling down beside him and smoothing her dress to give her time for some composure. Finding it, she let her blue eyes linger on his face as her hands dropped into her lap, listening as he began.

Shiloh could remember Bris and Conor’s faces and had fainter memories of the Soulstorm children, too. Her brow furrowed at mention of a Siku, trying to remember her as well, but she didn’t voice any questions, only letting her brother tell the story—of a cabin he built with his own hands, of the responsibility thrust upon him at such a young age. He spoke of their parents—or lack of parents—and she played with the folds of her dress. Dreyrugr was a difficult topic for her, for all the traveling she’d done in hopes of just seeing his face one more time despite their abandonment. She’d traveled miles when her paw pads hadn’t even callused from age and experience, desperately wanting a father to love, seeking news of him wherever she could gather it.

Saul spoke again of Siku and his feelings for her, and Shiloh gathered premature conclusions. “Was Temeraire hers?” she asked, but her forehead rumpled. It could have been a mistake between lovers, lovers who apparently hadn’t made it, but this still sounded a bit too long ago for the dark boy’s age. She shook her head then gestured for him to continue, deciding she’d try not to draw conclusions until he had finished.

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