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OoC:...
Jacquez Trouillefou stepped lazily up the cliff, the claws of his footpaws clicking lightly against the stone. He had been wandering every day, sniffing about the borders, traveling every square inch of the magnificent land that now belonged to himself and his royal court. There was so much more space here, so much more of everything. Except other souls; it was wide open and empty. That was a somewhat pleasant surprise that the collie-mongrel had not expected -- there was room to breathe in this land, room to be by oneself, room for privacy. That was a brand-new luxury. He had been taking advantage of it, being lazy of course, when he caught the scent of his Constable above him. He couldn't help it; his nature was still social, a pack animal at heart. If he saw someone nearby, he would go and talk to them, be they friend, stranger, enemy, former lover, rival, assassin, whatever the case may be.
The cool wind from the ocean fluttered and teased at the dark mane he had drawn back into a small ponytail, tugging at the feathered fur on his folded ears, at the white fringe that ran down his only arm. He loved the sea, its scent, its rhythm, its presence. He could not have settled anywhere other than a beach, really. He liked the water too much. His dark eyes flitted to Svara, who appeared to be deep in thought. Evening shadows had muted their colours; her dark red had become a faded crimson, his russet-and-gold had receded to a dim terracotta. The ocean had the most magnificent sunsets, though. "Constable Svara," he barked suddenly, trying to startle her with his sudden appearance. The mischievous grin curled onto his lean muzzle, lighting up his countenance. "And how are you on this fine evening? Full of pondering and wonderments, I would imagine. I hope they don't relate to jumping off this cliff. It would be a pain to find a replacement so soon." . .
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