sharp as shrapnel - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: sharp as shrapnel (/showthread.php?tid=10108) |
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- Fatin Kali - 03-20-2010 [html]
- Alacrity - 03-23-2010 [html] http://i155.photobucket.com/albums/s304 ... africa.png ); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:150px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#4C506B; text-align:justify; font-family:trebuchet ms; font-size:11px; color:#A5B0C8; line-height:14px">
@$%&Alacrity had been inexplicitly restless lately. Perhaps her restlessness was brought on by unease triggered by the attacks on Dahlia de Mai, or perhaps she was feeling the hints of spring that were beginning to trickle into the landscape. One or the other, or both, drew the African woman outside, even though the air had a brisk edge to it. She donned one of the mottled jackets that Anselm had given her against the chill, and set off along the riverbank, straying from the water’s edge whenever the banks grew more treacherous than her present mood was willing to tackle. @$%&At one point or another, the painted wolf came across a break in the vegetation. There, in the clearing, a red-hued were sat cross-legged, working with something in her hands. Alacrity hesitated for a moment – she hadn’t met many of the other clan members yet, despite her lengthy stay in the lands – but eventually decided to trust the scent that marked them both as members of the coyote clan. ”What are you making?” she asked pleasantly as she drew near, her English thickly accented but spoken with an air of studied precision. <3! - Fatin Kali - 03-25-2010 [html] HILUFF![/html] - Alacrity - 04-07-2010 [html] http://i155.photobucket.com/albums/s304 ... africa.png ); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:150px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#4C506B; text-align:justify; font-family:trebuchet ms; font-size:11px; color:#A5B0C8; line-height:14px">
@$%&Almost to her surprise, the reddish female seemed to accept her company. So Alacrity settled herself close by on a particularly comfortable-looking tuft of grass, and tried hard to pretend that she hadn’t noticed the fresh scar tissue on the other woman’s face and wrists. “Indeed. A spear makes sense, but I’m not much of an expert,” she said, looking over at the worked stone. Alacrity had encountered all sorts of weapons in her travels across the continents and sea, and at least recognized the different types. Not being a shifter herself, that was where her experience ended. ”Do you prefer to fight with weapons?” she wanted to know. Some did, some didn’t – and some couldn’t. @$%&Then came the inevitable question, although more charismatically spoken than many similar inquiries. Alacrity laughed and replied with a smile, “You missed the bear genes, yes?” The other female was not tiny, but she was smaller than many of the other shifters Alacrity had encountered. “We call ourselves the Mbwa mwitu. I hail from the savannahs of the African interior.” A place, she found, was an easier way to distinguish her origins than to attempt the explanation humans had concocted. Painted hunting dogs were canines, but only barely – kith to wolves, perhaps, but not quite kin. |