<style>
.orin .ooc {font-style:italic; }
.orin p {padding:2px 0px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;}
.orin b {color:#005d75; letter-spacing:-.2px; }
.orin {background-color:#FFFFFF; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v26/K ... w/orin.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:2px solid #FFFFFF; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:11px; line-height:12px; color:#4a0720; width:375px; text-align:justify; }
.orin-border {width:379px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto;}
.orin .header {font-size:18px; line-height:10px; font-style:bold; color:#4a0720; text-align:right;}
.orin .inner {margin:10px 10px 200px 10px; padding:10px; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v26/K ... orinbg.png); border:1px solid #000000; border-radius:20px;-moz-border-radius:20px; -webkit-border-radius:20px;}
</style>
ooc Eee!! wc 765
Today Orin was preoccupied with a very important task. It was an honor, really. A duty bestowed upon her by the Second in Command of Cercatori d'Arte. A couple weeks ago when she was first growing accustomed to the lay of the land and exploring the town of Thornbury, she had come across Skye Collins in the garden near her house. The two had struck up a pleasant conversation and learned a lot about each other quickly. Orin liked Skye, she was talented, intelligent, and caring. But perhaps what she liked most about her was the fact that the Secondo recognized Orin's own particular talents and offered her an opportunity to achieve a befitting rank: pack historian. Orin had already been fervently jotting down every note she could on Cercatori, logging every snippet of information in her journal, but now her hobby had become a commodity. Something useful that she could do for her pack. Just think about it, all of the future generations will know what happened now because of me. Of course, she was not so vain as to not give others their due, but the thought certainly made her proud.
She had found an empty journal on one of the stationery shelves in her bookstore and this was to be the new record of the history of Cercatori d'Arte. All she had to do was get a good little chunk compiled and organized and show Skye her progress, and the co-rank would be officially hers. “First Historian of Cercatori d'Arte...” She whispered to herself dreamily, testing the title and enjoying the way it sounded.
Her first order of business was to take some detailed notes so she could begin to record the events in the book. Luckily, since the pack was so new, she was not very far behind, but she did want to honor the founding by recording a detailed, concise account. So rather than jotting down just what she knew, she had a plan to get the information from the members who had lived it. Imagine being a young pup a hundred years from now and being able to read the history of your pack written in the words of the people who lived it. Her pace picked up, fueled by pride.
And who better to start with than the Capitano himself? Orin wasn't sure if Shawchert would be home, but his house was not too far from Thornbury and she could use the time to stretch her legs. If he was not home, she could wait. So the Takekuro woman grabbed her purple shawl and her satchel and packed up all the supplies she would need and then some: pencils, pens, loose papers, the blank journal, her journal, a book snatched at random, a crumbling old piece of bread and an apple. With her pack full, she wrapped the shawl over her shoulders (though it was for aesthetic purposes only, being too thin to provide any real heat), slung her pack on her arm, and exited out into the snow.
The walk to Shawchert's hut had been pleasant and without event. The blanket of snow seemed to smooth out the landscape a little so there were less rocks and holes to trip over, so Orin allowed her mind to wander as she traveled through the woods. She was almost surprised when she spotted the break in the trees that let out to the clearing in which Shaw's hut was constructed. She smiled to herself and shifted her pack to the other shoulder as she slipped out of the treeline and into the clearing. Her smile broadened when she looked up ahead and saw Shawchert sitting on the stoop.
She let out a small, wolfish noise that was a mixture between a yip and a brisk howl, and waved at him. “Shawchert!” She was so happy she caught him at home! What were the chances? She closed the rest of the distance at a slight jog, her words starting up as soon as she could speak without having to yell. “I'm so glad I caught you at home. I would have waited if you weren't... I hope you don't mind. I've got some questions for you. Did Skye talk to you yet? I'm starting a journal... yes, I'm starting a new journal... It's for Cercatori! I was hoping I could interview yo-... Oh!”
Her words died in her throat when she caught the look on her Alpha's face. She stood there a moment, bewildered, unsure what to do before meekly starting again, “Is... is something wrong?”