06-24-2009, 10:53 AM
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ooc: I fell right into your trap, ha ha. ;P
"A family clan, eh?" he commented, raising an eyebrow. That was an interesting tidbit, and would explain their close-knit structure. And if the majority of the coyote-hybrids were related, that meant the odds were in favor of his red-eyed lady being a Lykoi as well. The way Kaena said it, too, cool but bridling with inward pride - they were not just relatives, but most likely her children...? Only a parent would be so... arrogant. Not that it really mattered to him - it simply piqued his interest. He was not a family man. And his newly founded pack already held more diversity of race in its ranks than any other in this clutch of land - dogs, wolves, and coyotes alike coexisted equally. If they were all related, what fun would that be?
The smoky-grey woman let herself slouch against the warm boulder, sunlight gleaming on the knotted tissue of her eye socket. The asymmetry of her face was oddly appealing to the one-armed man. Perhaps together they could make one fully-functioning canine. "You would be correct, Madame Lykoi," he purred, his deep voice a pleasant rumble. "I am the one and only Jacquez Trouillefou, king of the Cour des Miracles, a royal court that has taken up residence on the southern coastline. I have sailed here from the deep south, a land of swamps and alligators and hurricanes." Stories of his homeland were exotic and often highly exaggerated for the sake of storytelling. Even more exaggerated were the stories he fabricated to explain his amputation - what would most impress this dangerous matriarch? She clearly had her share of violence and strife, and her hard yellow eye had seen much during her extended time on this earth. He would have to put forth an effort to impress her judgmental gaze.
"My arm, you know, I lost it when I was young," he began, lying through his teeth. His dark eyes gleamed with anticipation, voice dropping expertly to a conspirator's whisper. "I was traveling by my lonesome, trying to scale the cliffs of a beach for seagulls' eggs, when I was trapped in a rockslide. Brought me crashing back to the ground, hundreds of rocks pinning my arm. Oh, how I struggled! For days, I tried to wriggle free, tried to dig my way out, but alas, I was slowly starving to death. Finally..." He licked his lips, leaning in closer so that his practiced lies could slip directly into her tattered ear, "-I had to chew through my own arm. No agony can be greater than your own fangs separating your limb from torso! But I did not pass out, and here you see me today... a stronger man for it," he finished, pleased with how his fib had been presented. The tale was different every time.
"A family clan, eh?" he commented, raising an eyebrow. That was an interesting tidbit, and would explain their close-knit structure. And if the majority of the coyote-hybrids were related, that meant the odds were in favor of his red-eyed lady being a Lykoi as well. The way Kaena said it, too, cool but bridling with inward pride - they were not just relatives, but most likely her children...? Only a parent would be so... arrogant. Not that it really mattered to him - it simply piqued his interest. He was not a family man. And his newly founded pack already held more diversity of race in its ranks than any other in this clutch of land - dogs, wolves, and coyotes alike coexisted equally. If they were all related, what fun would that be?
The smoky-grey woman let herself slouch against the warm boulder, sunlight gleaming on the knotted tissue of her eye socket. The asymmetry of her face was oddly appealing to the one-armed man. Perhaps together they could make one fully-functioning canine. "You would be correct, Madame Lykoi," he purred, his deep voice a pleasant rumble. "I am the one and only Jacquez Trouillefou, king of the Cour des Miracles, a royal court that has taken up residence on the southern coastline. I have sailed here from the deep south, a land of swamps and alligators and hurricanes." Stories of his homeland were exotic and often highly exaggerated for the sake of storytelling. Even more exaggerated were the stories he fabricated to explain his amputation - what would most impress this dangerous matriarch? She clearly had her share of violence and strife, and her hard yellow eye had seen much during her extended time on this earth. He would have to put forth an effort to impress her judgmental gaze.
"My arm, you know, I lost it when I was young," he began, lying through his teeth. His dark eyes gleamed with anticipation, voice dropping expertly to a conspirator's whisper. "I was traveling by my lonesome, trying to scale the cliffs of a beach for seagulls' eggs, when I was trapped in a rockslide. Brought me crashing back to the ground, hundreds of rocks pinning my arm. Oh, how I struggled! For days, I tried to wriggle free, tried to dig my way out, but alas, I was slowly starving to death. Finally..." He licked his lips, leaning in closer so that his practiced lies could slip directly into her tattered ear, "-I had to chew through my own arm. No agony can be greater than your own fangs separating your limb from torso! But I did not pass out, and here you see me today... a stronger man for it," he finished, pleased with how his fib had been presented. The tale was different every time.