Optime form. Sorry it's so bad, I'm terribly sick. x.x
Sheep were not notorious for their cleverness. In fact, they were not notorious for anything but stupidity or, in some cases, their smell. Despite this fact, Kvæsir had always liked sheep, had always treated them with a certain amount of respect. They buckled under his intense gaze, of course, as any livestock would do to a persistent border collie, and as he leaned on the pasture's wooden fence, arms crossed over the wooden bar and tail gently wagging, he was mentally restraining himself from leaping over the enclosure to get a better feel for the animals. It would help him later on, he supposed, when and if he made it to a herding rank, and the woolly creatures needed to learn his smell. He could never herd in Optime form; he was still having difficulties, to some degree, moving at swift speeds. There was a pattern with how the animals acted, he was noticing, and he was also deciphering which of them were the more dominant animals in the group. You had to go for those first, of course, as sheep, being naturally submissive, would follow whichever member of their herd seemed to have even an inkling of where to go.
Kæ was surprised to see that there was no land with which to rotate the stock on, and wondered if the leaders were aware of the inclement repercussions- every year the grass would grow thinner, less nourishing, and the livestock would suffer. He was not a completely sensitive man, but he was not compassionless either, and made a mental note to bring this fact up to Jefferson the next time the two crossed paths. The Patriarch's home stood over Kvæsir's shoulder; he had heard that within lay a wondrously well-stocked library and was hoping to be able to venture inside sometime soon. It was irritating to him that he never saw much of Jefferson- at all since their initial meeting, actually- and it would be rude, if not disastrous, to simply waltz into the dominant male's residence without so much as a please-and-thank-you.
It was a cool afternoon, the wind tousling the feathered fur that lined the backs of his legs and his shoulders and roughing up his faux-hawk and bangs. With a swift movement he swept the thin white fur away from the top of his vision. Despite the amiable weather, once again he had yet to run into anyone that he knew- though the selection was minimal.