06-09-2009, 09:18 AM
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After about a a quarter of an hour, his hands were stained green and he'd built a nice little pile of pulled grass beside him. He found himself grinning at his own frivolity and stopped playing, stretching lean arms above him. The knuckles of his right hand still had small, half-healed scrapes, remnants of his fight with the stranger he'd run into while on patrol a few weeks ago. The wound on his lip was also still healing, but the skin that had formed over it was smooth and shiny. He was afraid that it would probably form into a scar. That whole scene still sickened him when he looked back on it; he couldn't believe he'd behaved so immaturely. Often, he comforted himself with thoughts like "that fucker had it coming to him." He wondered what Firefly would make of it.
More time had passed than the boy realized before he saw the lupine form of a bicolor wolf moving toward him. Kansas had lost himself, but he regained composure and stood up, leaving his bag on the ground. Kansas furrowed his brow, mildly surprised that it was not his sister who approached. It wasn't too far-fetched that someone else would approach - in fact, that was probably more likely.
The male had the most interesting coloring Kansas had ever seen. He couldn't even tell if the coal hues marking his coat were there naturally or if they were the result of dye. The Sadira noticed that the other was also covered in a collection of scrapes and scratches: as if he, too, had recently been in a fight. Kansas nodded a greeting, remembering his manners and allowing his tail and ears to fall slightly. "Yes - hi. I'm, eh, Kansas Sadira." Was it a good idea to state his business in Dahlia de Mai right away? "I came... looking for my sister, Firefly. And her sons."
After about a a quarter of an hour, his hands were stained green and he'd built a nice little pile of pulled grass beside him. He found himself grinning at his own frivolity and stopped playing, stretching lean arms above him. The knuckles of his right hand still had small, half-healed scrapes, remnants of his fight with the stranger he'd run into while on patrol a few weeks ago. The wound on his lip was also still healing, but the skin that had formed over it was smooth and shiny. He was afraid that it would probably form into a scar. That whole scene still sickened him when he looked back on it; he couldn't believe he'd behaved so immaturely. Often, he comforted himself with thoughts like "that fucker had it coming to him." He wondered what Firefly would make of it.
More time had passed than the boy realized before he saw the lupine form of a bicolor wolf moving toward him. Kansas had lost himself, but he regained composure and stood up, leaving his bag on the ground. Kansas furrowed his brow, mildly surprised that it was not his sister who approached. It wasn't too far-fetched that someone else would approach - in fact, that was probably more likely.
The male had the most interesting coloring Kansas had ever seen. He couldn't even tell if the coal hues marking his coat were there naturally or if they were the result of dye. The Sadira noticed that the other was also covered in a collection of scrapes and scratches: as if he, too, had recently been in a fight. Kansas nodded a greeting, remembering his manners and allowing his tail and ears to fall slightly. "Yes - hi. I'm, eh, Kansas Sadira." Was it a good idea to state his business in Dahlia de Mai right away? "I came... looking for my sister, Firefly. And her sons."
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