03-24-2009, 10:08 AM
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What a lovely afternoon. Once again, the Québécois was keeping himself well occupied by effectuating small chores around the house. There was something about having a cottage of his own that made him appreciate manual labor, amazingly enough. This was a hidden side of his personality that’d never surfaced up until now. Honoré planned on making his cabin the best looking one in all of Phoenix Valley. So what if the place looked decrepit? That meant he'd have to work twice as hard to reach his objective; it certainly would keep boredom at bay.
Bluebirds were roaming around the few visible tufts of grass, providing beautiful chirping sounds to accompany the alabaster male’s whistling. He was sitting at the picnic table in his backyard, the exact same place where he’d met one of his pack mates a few nights ago: Geneva. This time, however, he was busy painting the little birdhouse he’d crafted the day before. It was big enough for two or three fully grown birds, he assumed. Honoré didn’t know much about the little fellas and their living arrangements but if they needed a bigger birdhouse, he would have no problem building another one for them.
Upon realizing that he’d forgotten the green colored paint inside his cabin, Honoré reluctantly abandoned his task at hand. He was about to walk through his front door when he caught glimpse of a wolfess sitting a few yards away. She was grimacing and distorting her face in ways that clearly mirrored her disgust for something. Clearing his throat, the arctic wolf took a few steps forward and called out to her. “Hey, toé là, everything okay?” he questioned, grey-tipped ears flicked forward.
What a lovely afternoon. Once again, the Québécois was keeping himself well occupied by effectuating small chores around the house. There was something about having a cottage of his own that made him appreciate manual labor, amazingly enough. This was a hidden side of his personality that’d never surfaced up until now. Honoré planned on making his cabin the best looking one in all of Phoenix Valley. So what if the place looked decrepit? That meant he'd have to work twice as hard to reach his objective; it certainly would keep boredom at bay.
Bluebirds were roaming around the few visible tufts of grass, providing beautiful chirping sounds to accompany the alabaster male’s whistling. He was sitting at the picnic table in his backyard, the exact same place where he’d met one of his pack mates a few nights ago: Geneva. This time, however, he was busy painting the little birdhouse he’d crafted the day before. It was big enough for two or three fully grown birds, he assumed. Honoré didn’t know much about the little fellas and their living arrangements but if they needed a bigger birdhouse, he would have no problem building another one for them.
Upon realizing that he’d forgotten the green colored paint inside his cabin, Honoré reluctantly abandoned his task at hand. He was about to walk through his front door when he caught glimpse of a wolfess sitting a few yards away. She was grimacing and distorting her face in ways that clearly mirrored her disgust for something. Clearing his throat, the arctic wolf took a few steps forward and called out to her. “Hey, toé là, everything okay?” he questioned, grey-tipped ears flicked forward.