Word Count :: 479 Okay, I freaking love your Bambi.
He set the cross in his lap, letting Octavian pick it up and inspect it, as the woman approached. He allowed himself to smile gently, lips curling upward to reveal just a slight portion of his teeth. He found himself slightly in awe of the beautiful blue-gray coloring of the lady's fur. It seemed natural, and he had never seen such a unique coloring in his young life. He tipped his head in greeting as she walked closer and blinked stupidly as she sat down near him. He hadn't expected that. Maybe just a passing hello, but not for her to just sit next to him. As she lifted her hand, he found himself looking at it. He wondered briefly what the gesture meant. Was it some type of waving gesture? Octavian nudged him gently, and he lifted his hand as well. He touched hers hesitantly, hoping it was the right thing to do. He had often seen Octavian greet other creatures in such a way, and so he hoped it was alright.
"Hi, miss. Nice meeting you, miss. I'm Oct." Octavian spoke before Loviere, crawling from his lap to move closer to the lady. The raccoon's ears rose with curiousity as he crept closer, until he finally stood upon his hind legs to sniff more closely at Bambi.
Bambi. Loviere heard the whisper, but it took him a few seconds to realize that she must have spoken her name. He could tell already that she was a woman of few words. Such was a trait that he could definitely appreciate, being of simple terms himself. He found it a bit odd that his raccoon friend gave his name as simply Oct instead of Octavian, but then thought that perhaps the raccoon sensed something that he did not. The scent of the pack was on Bambi, faintly, but there. She must be new, quite like him.
"Hi, Bambi. I'm Loviere. Are you... new here? I am too. If you are."
He wondered if she would respond. Whether or not she did, he was greatly intrigued by the unique-looking dog. Perhaps it was her appearance, or the way she had introduced herself to him.
"I... like your scarf." He pointed at the feathered scarf, his golden eyes gently moving as he observed the woman. It was then that he realized that she was the first woman of d'Arte that he had really had the opportunity to meet. He wondered what her special talent was that had led her to join the artistic pack. His mind wandered, questions sprouting throughout his head. Instinct told him not to ask her much. She clearly was quiet.
Loviere touched his twisted leg as he thought, running his fingers over the patchy fur that grew upon it. Whenever he was around women, he found that the leg embarrassed him even more than it normally did.
table by the Mentors!
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