[ooc] -- i thought you'd be there.
‘Tis okay
holding daisies, counting stars. -- [bic]
The waters of this lake were unfamiliar. Although Cercelee had resided in Clouded Tears only briefly, both stays, and hadn’t a chance to come to love the lake as many others had, she still used that as her comparison for all other bodies of water. The Clouded Tears lake had been beautiful, the fog, while eerie, also coated the shores like a blanket in almost a loving way. The island in the middle of the lake had been a sanctuary, only penetrated by the loyal members of the pack although she herself had never touched foot upon it’s soil. This lake, whatever it’s name was, was nice enough in it’s own way, but it hadn’t the charm of the lake she knew as a young puppy. Although Cercelee sat upon the shores comparing the two, there was no real nostalgia or sorrow in the thought. It was just a fact. She had known a lake once that was too beautiful for words, and other lakes just weren’t up to par.
Although she had smelt the female approaching, and heard foot steps, she gave no indication until the voice floated up to her. White ears twitched and Cercelee turned, her navy eyes setting upon what seemed to be the opposite of her. A coat as dark as her’s was light. Eyes like fire, where as hers were cool like the waters that lapped at the shore. Cercelee smiled at the other, whom smelt of the pack she had just avoided, and nodded a silent hello, tail waving friendly. Turned her eyes back briefly to the lake, as if she had to think about her answer (who was she any way?), her voice came out cool and calm, yet friendly and floating in the air like a feather.
Cercelee. Navy eyes settled onto the stranger again, and she titled her head slightly, trying to take in all the details, waiting for the other to respond with a name.
The female before her was different than the others she had seen, while she had met many that nearly mirrored her own image, a solid mass of alabaster, she had yet to see one the color of coal. Slay had those tones in his fur, but they were splotches against her own cream color. It was this stark difference that settled in her mind that this would not be yet another meeting with a wolf who knew her whole history that Cercelee only had an inkling of herself. Colibri had known that she was a descendant of Ceres, Mew had turned out to be in some way a relative, the female in the forest had not left her alone until Cercelee had given the name of her father. Could there really be so many others in this world that were connected to her without Cer ever knowing it? Trying not to think about it, because she told herself that she simply did not care, she spoke again, her tones melodic,
The pack near here, you come from them, yes? What are they called?
