05-20-2009, 03:20 PM
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500+
Cwmfen had been alone with the wind pushing against her back. But for a moment the wind fell still and she could hear many things. The sound of approach, however, was soft and not the careless step of an ignorant creature. Her woad bound ears swiveled back and she turned even as the voice sounded quite suddenly behind her. The woman did not give a start, but she was surprised by the sudden appearance of another. The male that had approached from behind was not DaVinci—he was not even the same shade. But as the wind picked up, it was apparent that the scent of the lands were imprinted upon the scent of the scarred male. And there were quite a few impressive scars upon him, she noted, especially the one that held the eye in darkness. The warrior wondered what manner of battle had endowed this male with such marks. Her white orbs took in the male’s face as she met his gaze with an easy, nonthreatening look, she wondered if he still fought such battles.
As she ceased, turning to face him, a light smile danced upon her maw. The warrior believed that this male, being of Phoenix Valley, was more friend than foe despite his gruff display of words. And yet, she thought that there had been a darker undertone to those words, and her curiosity of the dark allowed her to linger. "I just thought that it’d be appropriate to visit this pack," the soft melody responded. She was not too keen upon jokes or sarcasm, having a lack of skill in such an area. Her own attempts at humor were quite futile. The woad tipped tail waved behind her once as she shifted her weight, the feather in her mane brushing against her shoulder. "I was actually hoping to find DaVinci—I heard that he helped to lead the pack under the Patriarch." The woman resorted to using the title of the leading wolf instead of the name, for she could not recall it and did not wish disrespect upon the pack.
The woman bowed slightly in a manner that denoted her Korean heritage more so than the Caledonian culture. She introduced herself, her register formal as she did so. "Cwmfen nic Graine, Adonis of Dahlia de Mai." As she spoke, the alto tones were quiet. The warrior tended to display such tentative behavior, especially when approaching unknown individuals. That was not to say that she was afraid, for she was not. It was merely attributing to her lack of social aptitude. Rising, the black fae returned to that easily retained posture that was neither submissive nor dominant. The white orbs considered the male’s clothing. Aside from Onus, she had not seen many who wore these human things, and this male certainly had a complete wardrobe (or so the female, not clothed at all, thought). But she had heard also that cattle were held here, which was a strange concept for the female, who had lived merely as a wolf for her first year of life, to understand. But then, she understood most keenly only the path that she had followed. Her social and diplomatic efforts had only begun to truly affect her when she had been promoted. It was a difficult thing, but it was not without its merits.
500+
Cwmfen had been alone with the wind pushing against her back. But for a moment the wind fell still and she could hear many things. The sound of approach, however, was soft and not the careless step of an ignorant creature. Her woad bound ears swiveled back and she turned even as the voice sounded quite suddenly behind her. The woman did not give a start, but she was surprised by the sudden appearance of another. The male that had approached from behind was not DaVinci—he was not even the same shade. But as the wind picked up, it was apparent that the scent of the lands were imprinted upon the scent of the scarred male. And there were quite a few impressive scars upon him, she noted, especially the one that held the eye in darkness. The warrior wondered what manner of battle had endowed this male with such marks. Her white orbs took in the male’s face as she met his gaze with an easy, nonthreatening look, she wondered if he still fought such battles.
As she ceased, turning to face him, a light smile danced upon her maw. The warrior believed that this male, being of Phoenix Valley, was more friend than foe despite his gruff display of words. And yet, she thought that there had been a darker undertone to those words, and her curiosity of the dark allowed her to linger. "I just thought that it’d be appropriate to visit this pack," the soft melody responded. She was not too keen upon jokes or sarcasm, having a lack of skill in such an area. Her own attempts at humor were quite futile. The woad tipped tail waved behind her once as she shifted her weight, the feather in her mane brushing against her shoulder. "I was actually hoping to find DaVinci—I heard that he helped to lead the pack under the Patriarch." The woman resorted to using the title of the leading wolf instead of the name, for she could not recall it and did not wish disrespect upon the pack.
The woman bowed slightly in a manner that denoted her Korean heritage more so than the Caledonian culture. She introduced herself, her register formal as she did so. "Cwmfen nic Graine, Adonis of Dahlia de Mai." As she spoke, the alto tones were quiet. The warrior tended to display such tentative behavior, especially when approaching unknown individuals. That was not to say that she was afraid, for she was not. It was merely attributing to her lack of social aptitude. Rising, the black fae returned to that easily retained posture that was neither submissive nor dominant. The white orbs considered the male’s clothing. Aside from Onus, she had not seen many who wore these human things, and this male certainly had a complete wardrobe (or so the female, not clothed at all, thought). But she had heard also that cattle were held here, which was a strange concept for the female, who had lived merely as a wolf for her first year of life, to understand. But then, she understood most keenly only the path that she had followed. Her social and diplomatic efforts had only begun to truly affect her when she had been promoted. It was a difficult thing, but it was not without its merits.