Word Count: 339 Heyyy, welcome to 'Souls! I just wanted to let you know, Maned Wolves are of the genus Chrysocyon, which is distinct from Canis. Only members of Canis can shift here; if you would like, you can still play a Maned Wolf, though it will not be able to shift. For alternatives, if you still wanted to place a Luperci, you could do a wolf, a coyote, virtually any dog, jackals, dingos... for a complete list, you can see here! Of course, only the still-living species are playable. ^^; Just let us know which you want to do (play a non-Luperci Maned Wolf, or a Luperci of some other species) and edit your first post, please? Apologies for that. And also, I apologize in advance—Sicarus is kind of a gigantic jerk! D: I promise you I am nice, though! I'm Sie, it's good to meet you. XD Now, to end the longest OOC message everrrr... hehe.

The Dahlian male was, as usual, patrolling the borders. His injures were almost completely healed from the battle some weeks earlier; there was not so much as a limp in his step now. He had patrolled even when he was more injured—with their neighbors barking and yowling just across the forest, they could not rest. There was danger, there was always danger—Sicarus had to serve his Rosen, otherwise there would be severe trouble, not only for himself, but all of Dahlia.

The tawny-furred man had paced most of the afternoon away when a scent caught his nose, definitely unfamiliar. It did not carry the taint of Inferni. So far, Sicarus had been present for the acceptance of just one newcomer to the Dahlian pack, though others had certainly come since RJ had appeared on their doorstep. The two-legged man changed course absently, loathing he had to answer to the beckoning scent of a female—but it seemed his master, his alpha, was sympathetic to women; he allowed them in the midst of the pack and at times it seemed he even courted the sable-furred woman. All of it was disgusting to Sicarus, but he had learned to tone down his hatred somewhat, at least where Dahlians and potential Dahlians were concerned. They could not afford to lose potential membership at the cost of one wolf's misogyny.

The Charme made his way toward the russet-furred female, his fire-gold eyes sizing her up all the while. If he had been capable of sustaining attraction, perhaps she would have been pretty—after a little clean-up, of course. Her matted fur and thin body spoke of months spent alone, wandering the wild open expanses of the world. He had not been so different himself, not too long ago—months on the ship had made him bone-thin. When he'd finally stepped foot on land again, he almost forgot how to walk on it. “Can I help you?” he sniffed, crossing his arms and halting as he got within earshot of the woman.

Hey, not a problem at all! Thanks for changing it up! It's a common misconception, of course, since maned wolves are called... well, maned wolves! XD Thanks for changing it up--I also look forward to seeing an Ethiopian wolf played; as far as I know we haven't yet had one of those!

The tawny-furred werewolf would have rather been anywhere but here; he expected some sob story from the woman, some pitiable tale of how she had been abandoned or abused, something of the sort. That was what most of them seemed to carry with them, anyway—it was not that Sicarus was particularly well-versed with newcomers, he just held certain prejudices where women were concerned. Even so, he was prepared to set them aside to allow this new one acceptance where Haku was concerned. It was not Sicarus's job to decide who was allowed in Dahlia or not; it was his job to filter out the utter trash from those who would serve some purpose in the Rosen's greater plan for the pack.

There were no words from the woman, just a shiver, and the golden-yellow eyes of the man narrowed, pacing a step closer. “Nothing to say for yourself, then?” he said, tilting his head to the side. Perhaps she was the rare good woman—they did not speak unless absolutely necessary; they were subservient and submissive. Sicarus might even be able to appreciate such qualities in a woman. Scrutinizing her again, the male tilted his head to the side slowly, those fire-colored eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. Couldn't talk was slightly different from wouldn't talk, of course. “You're here seeking a home?” Perhaps she would nod to indicate that, perhaps not—either way, it would be abandonment of duty to just leave her awkwardly standing here, and Sicarus did not wish to displease Haku.

Word Count: 575 First of all, sorry this post is so long. >_< I really got to rambling. D: Second, I have a gift for you. Have an avatar?! You can update it here in your User Control Panel if you'd like to use it. It's 138 px wide, 187 px high. And of course if it does not fit your perception of your character, let me know! It's an Ethiopian wolf, but I could certainly edit it better to make it look more like Istabel if I totally missed the mark. You could reply once more if you'd like here, but you don't have to. :3 Feel free to post while you're waiting to be titled; an administrator should be around to nab you shortly.

Sicarus was not generally the type to lend sympathy; he had known none in his short life, and he could just barely identify the emotion by name or the way it felt. There was none within him, of course, but he could at least recognize emotions in others. He was not completely ignorant to the emotional ways of his own kind, even most of them did not manifest within him. The tawny-furred werewolf knew he ought to have offered some sympathetic gesture toward her, yet his training and conditioning dictated he show no such thing. At first, the woman merely shrugged, remaining quiet still; Sicarus remained silent and withdrawn himself, having already made the assumption she either would not or could not speak. Perhaps in time she would find her voice, perhaps not. It did not matter much to Sicarus (and not that Sic knew it yet, but he'd be dead long before this woman was even fully settled into the pack).

All at once there was motion from the other canine, and she tipped forward almost absurdly at first. A true gentleman would have leaned forward and made to catch her just in case she did fall, but Sicarus made no such moves, instead still standing where he was, staring blankly and wishing he was anywhere else in the world. At least this woman was quiet; he couldn't stand chatterboxes most of the time. There were old things locked onto her, and as she walked toward him they made noise; the chocolate-furred man flicked an ear, his golden-yellow gaze drawn to the items in question. Old chains and lock-ups? He wondered where one might acquire such items—and why one would leave without relinquishing possession of one. It had not occurred to the man that she might be an escapee of some sort, and in any case it did not particularly matter—just a passing thought from a firing synapse somewhere in the Italian wolf's generally bleak mind.

There was a slight nod from the woman as she drew closer, and Sic raised a brow, for the first time the faintest smile coming to his lips—though of course, it was not a smile of happiness. He was simply glad to know there was still someone home; from the glint of her eyes the tawny man could see there was some life and determination in her yet. The large collar around her neck caught the man's gaze, and he squinted to read the unfamiliar word there. Istabel? At least she had a name—they could not go around referring to her as "that wolf;" things would grow quite confusing quite quickly. “Well, Istabel, is it? They call this place Dahlia de Mai, and I am Sicarus de Ericeto, the Charme—I am a servant of our most wonderful leader, Haku Soul. Surely he would not want to be bothered with the borders today, so I will allow you entrance to the pack, should you desire it. Your rank is Gazon, and you may roam where you wish in the clan's lands.”

He was silent only a moment before he continued speaking, turning and pointing in the general direction of Wolfville. “Head that way, and you will find the town of Wolfville. Most of us live there, and you may find someone to assist you. I must return to my patrol,” he said, sounding rather resigned to it. “Don't suppose you need anything else?”