01-02-2009, 05:48 PM
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Lubomir, please. I do not go by such titles as you bestow on me. Unless you would have me call you sir. His tone was light, as was his spirit. Lubomir walked closer to the fire and sat down on his haunches, his tail curling around him. He could have shifted, of course, but again, the fear nagged at him. So instead, he chose to stare into the flames, trying to get his head straight, his thoughts to follow a logical order. He had finally settled with Mew and instead of being happy, he had thought of running off again, of breaking away from Dahlia. This Bane carried no scent and by the look of his kill, he was a loner. Perhaps he would understand Lubomir's plight. But first things first. It would be a lie to say I am not. But I think I will let you choose to share your kill. I have contributed nothing to it and I would feel quite bad to simply help myself.
Lubomir thought back to the Old Country. He thought back to his pack, what he could remember of it. You will pardon my saying this, but you carry no scent other than yours. I take it you do not belong to any one pack. Did he begrudge the black male his freedom? Did he feel bitter that once again he had managed to somehow join a pack as soon as the lands had become familiar? First Shadowed Sun, now Dahlia de Mai. He would have liked to roam, of course. This certainly was a limited option, the longer he stayed with Mew and her pack. I feel the tug of the chase, Bane. I feel the call of freedom. I have managed, somehow, to convince myself I should have stayed alone. Lubomir laughed, a broken, bitter sound. You yourself seem experienced. Are you new around here? Perhaps, like himself, Bane had left, then returned. Perhaps he could understand he burning desire in Lubomir's blood. And the moral dilemma he faced.
Lubomir, please. I do not go by such titles as you bestow on me. Unless you would have me call you sir. His tone was light, as was his spirit. Lubomir walked closer to the fire and sat down on his haunches, his tail curling around him. He could have shifted, of course, but again, the fear nagged at him. So instead, he chose to stare into the flames, trying to get his head straight, his thoughts to follow a logical order. He had finally settled with Mew and instead of being happy, he had thought of running off again, of breaking away from Dahlia. This Bane carried no scent and by the look of his kill, he was a loner. Perhaps he would understand Lubomir's plight. But first things first. It would be a lie to say I am not. But I think I will let you choose to share your kill. I have contributed nothing to it and I would feel quite bad to simply help myself.
Lubomir thought back to the Old Country. He thought back to his pack, what he could remember of it. You will pardon my saying this, but you carry no scent other than yours. I take it you do not belong to any one pack. Did he begrudge the black male his freedom? Did he feel bitter that once again he had managed to somehow join a pack as soon as the lands had become familiar? First Shadowed Sun, now Dahlia de Mai. He would have liked to roam, of course. This certainly was a limited option, the longer he stayed with Mew and her pack. I feel the tug of the chase, Bane. I feel the call of freedom. I have managed, somehow, to convince myself I should have stayed alone. Lubomir laughed, a broken, bitter sound. You yourself seem experienced. Are you new around here? Perhaps, like himself, Bane had left, then returned. Perhaps he could understand he burning desire in Lubomir's blood. And the moral dilemma he faced.