10-01-2009, 03:36 PM
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WC: 500+
I love POTC soooo much! I wish they’d make another movie, Jack Sparrow is awesome.
"I'm not so great with water, we had lakes back home, but swimming in them was considered foolish." On summer days, when the air danced and shivered with heat, Finn and her brothers would race to the waters edge and splash about in the shallows, but that was all. The murky waters held strange things, giant lizards and ancient fish that sometimes came to the surface to feast on unwary wolves. Finn had seen it happen, a little pup from a neighbouring pack disappear beneath the surface with not so much as a splash. The water had rippled gently, as if stirred by slow fins, and then went still. Since then, Finn had deeply distrusted water that she couldn't see the bottom of.
"Tis but a scratch," Finn said, eyes crinkling mischievously. It was an old quote, far before her time, but an oft repeated one in her family. Fidh wolves had a tendency of brushing off even potentially mortal injuries with flippant disregard. Finn had said it after Aegnus ripped off her ear, though she nearly choked on her words as the pain lanced across her head. She had only been ten months, not even an adult. Lately, she had started to question whether it was purposeful or not. Either way, she had wiped the gloating off his face with those four words and a younger version of the cocky smile she used now.
So many questions, and when Finn had lot's of questions, she found it hard to find the right one to start with. All seemed equally important. She thought for a second, tilting her head to the side, thinking. "All right, where is your accent from? I haven't heard anything even close to it in all my travels."
Finn listened intently, drinking up the words. Words made stories, and stories were always welcome. She had grown up on them, after all. In place of mother's milk she had been fed tales of wolven heroes and wars long past, of gods and wonders beyond imagining. Cuhlain Fidh always had a way with words, a near supernatural ability to pluck the perfect words from thin air and weave them together to form a shining rope that drew you in and held you raptly captive as he spoke. Even doubting, bitter, sarcastic Brom would sit still and quiet when his father settled down to entertain them all on cold winter nights.
"I'm not so great with water, we had lakes back home, but swimming in them was considered foolish." On summer days, when the air danced and shivered with heat, Finn and her brothers would race to the waters edge and splash about in the shallows, but that was all. The murky waters held strange things, giant lizards and ancient fish that sometimes came to the surface to feast on unwary wolves. Finn had seen it happen, a little pup from a neighbouring pack disappear beneath the surface with not so much as a splash. The water had rippled gently, as if stirred by slow fins, and then went still. Since then, Finn had deeply distrusted water that she couldn't see the bottom of.
"Tis but a scratch," Finn said, eyes crinkling mischievously. It was an old quote, far before her time, but an oft repeated one in her family. Fidh wolves had a tendency of brushing off even potentially mortal injuries with flippant disregard. Finn had said it after Aegnus ripped off her ear, though she nearly choked on her words as the pain lanced across her head. She had only been ten months, not even an adult. Lately, she had started to question whether it was purposeful or not. Either way, she had wiped the gloating off his face with those four words and a younger version of the cocky smile she used now.
A Jolly Roger... Finn considered it again, and the four parallel scars across Rurik's chest. She had similar ones, though in different places, and knew that they could only be made by the claws of a wolf. Curiouser and curiouser. Finn always found scars on others fascinating. It meant that life had left them marked but still alive, and suggested a stubbornness and refusal to simply give up and die. Or perhaps she was simply reading too much into it. It was entirely possible that Rurik had gotten those scars for being insubordinate or whilst running away from a fight, but Finn didn't think it likely. Though the wolf was kind and considerate in his manner, he didn't look like a coward. There was steel in him.
So many questions, and when Finn had lot's of questions, she found it hard to find the right one to start with. All seemed equally important. She thought for a second, tilting her head to the side, thinking. "All right, where is your accent from? I haven't heard anything even close to it in all my travels."