oh my god, no idea why it took me this long to reply to this! i kept forgetting! ; ; <333 my my, this thread is old. any chance we can make the date more current? july 9th, 10th or so? if that's too far, it's fine, but i kinda wanted denver to mention having met janos. again, it's okay if not. :oWC: 470
Denver was getting tired of the dense underbrush. He just knew his pants were getting millions of tiny holes poked in them as he walked, certain that he would catch himself on something and fall straight into the largest pile of mud around. His eyes found a clearing, and the mutt high-stepped his way through what was left.
The Associate's desire for information and knowledge often outweighed his unhealthy fear of dirt, germs, and other filth, but here he had had enough. Taking a heavy step out of that dense bit of forest, he immediately checked his body and clothing for harm or debris. Annoyed with the inconvenience, he brushed himself off in a huff and slowly stood, straightening to look around.
There was little centered here besides a pathetically small gathering of water; too small to be a lake, and hardly more than a pond. Unimpressed, Denver's eyebrows rose, frowning as he assessed the land. The water may have been useful, should it serve as a drinking hole for nearby land creatures. The dog supposed it couldn't hurt to at least remember the spot for reference. There weren't many inland bodies nearby, and so he would reluctantly commit it to memory.
Denver had nearly gotten bored with the place already, when the sound of a child laughing made him start, suddenly alert. One ear perked, and the other one tried, failing as the man moved towards the sound of the noise swiftly, though not without caution. A child out here, alone?
But when he saw the small wolf-- someone he recognized, surprisingly--, Denver discovered it was in fact not a child at all. The pale gray man had sat beside the yellow coyote-woman, who had sat beside Eris at the feast. Brows raised again, this time out of curiosity and intrigue, instead of boredom. What the hell was he doing?
Denver stared hard, not caring to disguise or mask his presence before the higher-ranked wolf; though neither did he make himself known, yet. The young man did nothing but watch a turtle (who probably made it's home in the shitty pond) bite onto a stick and break it; he had a large supply of sticks, and seemed endlessly entertained by this trivial, silly thing. Denver was not amused, but approached now, speaking.
"Why not roast that turtle over them sticks, 'nstead'a playin' with it like that?" he questioned, smooth, low voice laced gently with a southern accent. Cooking and eating the beast would be far more worthwhile than just using it's jaws for laughs. Denver's eyes narrowed, staring around the pond as if to locate other stray, easily caught animals. There were none, so he stared again at the young wolf, curious to see if his company would be worthwhile or if he should simply leave.
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