i'll buy us a house of gold and mother-of-pearl


POSTED: Fri Jul 13, 2018 4:17 pm

she's just by the river watching a bear eat I guess???

Warm rays of sunlight illuminated the dapple woman's pelt until a warm chocolate and golden aura surrounded her. It was one of the first truly sunny days she had had a chance to enjoy. The warmth, coupled with a slight breeze, strengthened the faint memories of her infancy. The smell of her parent's coats, warm from the sun, and the hazy scent of pollen from freshly bloomed flora.

She'd expected more.

Actually, that was a lie. She'd expected nothing really. Maybe she expected to enjoy the summer months a significant amount more than the winter ones, but ultimately she found the merits of both of them to be somewhat enjoyable. While she appreciated the warmth, the lack of mud and rain, she found she missed the deep white blankets of snow.

Her tasks for the day had been completed long before, while the weather had still been cool. Now Saga contented herself with lying on the soft banks of the Saint John's river, watching the black bear on the opposing bank feast on what the D'Angelo girl assumed to be a deer of some kind. As she watched on, she felt an odd sense of kinship with the animal. The symbol of her house.
Saga D'Angelo
Mistfell Vale
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Luperci MV Top Poster!
der schein trügt

POSTED: Sat Jul 14, 2018 2:30 pm

Fionnlagh, too, had expected more. From his parents, from his birth pack and life in general – but the brooding youth was enjoying his time spent in the Vale so far. Of course, Fionnlagh wouldn’t do something as lacking in cool as admit to being grateful for his place as a Mistwalker. It was a place Felix very easily could’ve denied Fionny; had the young Cormier been in the Ravenking’s position he might well have rejected a pair of scruffy diamonds in the rough.

But Felix hadn’t – and some part of Fionnlagh was intent on finding a way to repay his new leader.

He stalked along the banks of the Saint John River with his nose hovering an inch or two from the dry Summer grasses, his gaze trained ahead – and occasionally across the stretch of water. Fionnlagh was in search of a scent which might lead him on to a successful hunt.

He slowed when he scented a bear instead. The chances of taking that on, even if the young man was arrogant beyond belief, were slim. With help it was possible the bear could be lured away from its meal – but even Fionnlagh knew that few canines in their right minds would offer themselves up as bear bait.

He put aside the idea of securing himself the bear’s meal and ambled instead toward the curiously speckled figure basking on the riverbank.

“Don’t s’pose ye fancy havin’ a crack at drawin’ that thing away from its kill?” Fionnlagh’s smirk was lopsided; there were far easier ways of securing a meal but he was keen to see how this pack mate would respond.

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