[html]  So beautifully wrong
She worried a lot about them...the pups. Naniko had a lot on her plate and lately she'd been having trouble shouldering all of it. It wasn't leading the pack or taking care of Sirius and Apollo separately...it was a combination of both. She wanted to take them everywhere with her, so that they could learn and so that she could teach them the important lessons that they would need for when they got older, but she just didn't have the time or the energy. The only part that she did have was the will to try. Today, however, she was without them. She did think that it was important that they spent time with their grandmother, grandfather, and uncles, and today was one of those days. It wasn't often that she got some time alone, so she'd taken advantage of it and had gone out to the city. Somehow she'd come upon this place, a cemetary. It reminded her of Saint Paul's in a way, with the headstones and slightly foggy atmosphere...but then again, it was night time. Maybe she was just imagining the resemblance. Or perhaps all cemetaries looked similar at night. The leader sat down next to one of the tombstones and shouldered her backpack off, the bottles inside clinking together as they settled. She'd have some fun tonight, whether it was with someone else or without.
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Please excuse Punk. She is rude, and an idiot.
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The stones here were bizarre, Punk had never understood human rituals. She had no idea that this was a burying ground for them – only that all of the stones were strangely smooth and rounded with strange markings in them. It was all a little too unnatural for her, which was saying something. A wolf with the unexplainable desire to dye her fur every color under the sun definitely had a concept of what was out of the norm, and how to accept and cope with it.
A clink not too far off to her right caught the female's attention, prying her eyes off of a particularly large marble tombstone she looked in that direction in time to catch sight of an ultra-white thing sitting itself down with some object (the backpack) that Punk couldn't identify. By 'thing' we do mean werewolf, Punk hadn't decided what she was going to call them yet. The common name seemed entirely too bland. What did werewolf mean, anyway?
Walking up the too-straight rows of headstones she made her way over to the 'thing' and asked, abruptly. "What is the point of a stone forest?" Looking around, to indicate the meaning of her question. She had no better name for it, she'd yet to learn the word 'cemetery' or what its purpose was. To her, the most comparable thing to this, was a forest. Her tone indicated that this was a forest that would have rode the short bus to school, if forests could ride buses and go to school, and Punk knew what buses were. Little did she know, that this forest would have rode a hearse to school.
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Works for me :[D (moustache man)
Naniko had a storehouse of human knowledge crammed up into her brain. She'd spent countless hours in the library in Citta Umana, the old city that they'd lived by...and she had recently found a library in Halifax, as well. She could read in English and french, and speak English, French, and some Itallian (thanks to Beppe, Maria, and Guiseppe). Many of the books that she'd read made refrences to this sort of a place, a resting ground for the dead. She wasn't sure if wolves had anything similiar to it...the only one she'd ever had die that was close to her was her father, and she had made him a tomb herself, by blocking the entrance to his cave with big rocks.
But maybe burying someone was better, somehow. The humans had done it. Naniko hadn't heard of the other ways that humans had taken care of their dead, though, like cremation and dissection. It was a crazy idea, really, donating one's dead body to doctors so they could pull it apart and see how it worked.
She saw the female and heard her words at the same time. Naniko had been around wolves with dyed fur before, like Anathra...but had never tried it, herself. A few of her herbs sometimes turned her paws colors, though. "To mark the passing of time--the coming and going of life." She answered simply. "Naniko D'angelo."
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