07-28-2009, 08:22 PM
[html]
http://i155.photobucket.com/albums/s304 ... wicked.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; padding-bottom:185px; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#000000; text-align:justify; font-family:tahoma; font-size:11px; color:#C2A52C; line-height:16px">That's hardly a wait! And yeah, I should've been more clear about the thought (it's more obvious when there's also spoken text, I guess x_X). Just for the record, Anselm was travelling for awhile, spent about 2 days in Inferni, washed off several times, and has since been gone for about a week and a half, so he shouldn't smell like them much. :3 Again, my bad for not making that apparent at all. >_o
------Though objectively he found her voice rather soft and pleasant, her words still cut through the air like a knife and felt like buckshot rattling down his ears. His footfalls ceased immediately, though he did not grow tense. One ear flicked as he swung his heavy head around to look at her, this time from the front. Despite his best efforts, he could not suppress a look of surprise from creeping across his face, although that initial confusion quickly turned into a look of recognition. White eyes. Gabriel's voice now sounded loud and clear in his mind--this was the woman training Anselm's "nephew."
------Just like that, the voice in his head was screaming unbearably loud. When his cousin mentioned the colour of the warrior's gaze, Anselm had pictured one thing. What he saw now was completely different. His first instinct was to deem her blind; usually those with such cloudy eyes had lost their vision to scar tissue (or something, that was how he understood it at least). She seemed to be watching him, though, not just listening--and this perplexed him greatly.
------He pivoted slowly to face her, watching carefully as she released her grip on the spear (and noting that she could easily wield it again within seconds, if the need arose). The twin garnets of his eyes now rose to her unmarked white ones as his rump simultaneously lowered to the ground. His tail, still rather thick and bushy despite the warmth of the season, curled neatly around his body and rested next to his left foot.
------Increasingly he became aware of the unnatural pause in their so-far one-sided conversation: she had asked him a question, and he'd failed to respond. Who could blame the guy for needing a moment to digest and collect his thoughts? "Gabriel never mentioned you could defy the laws of Nature," he stated at length, his tone remarkably even for such a bold (and ridiculous) statement. He continued to stare intently at her eyes--though as with her, this was not in challenge (as it may have been under any other circumstance). He was just damn confused. He wanted a closer look (surely there was some kind of reasonable explanation), but he didn't want to get close enough to take it, either.
------"As for your question," he continued shortly, "isn't it obvious? Your pack has laid claim to damn near the entire breadth of this peninsula, sans Halifax. Coming up from the south, I really had no choice but to trail along the perimeter if I wanted to get home." There was no sense in trying to keep under cover, so he spoke of Gabriel and the path to Inferni freely. This strangely marked woman was clearly somewhat comfortable with the coyotes, which was impressive given her citizenship of a nation that had proven one of their greater enemies.
------Though objectively he found her voice rather soft and pleasant, her words still cut through the air like a knife and felt like buckshot rattling down his ears. His footfalls ceased immediately, though he did not grow tense. One ear flicked as he swung his heavy head around to look at her, this time from the front. Despite his best efforts, he could not suppress a look of surprise from creeping across his face, although that initial confusion quickly turned into a look of recognition. White eyes. Gabriel's voice now sounded loud and clear in his mind--this was the woman training Anselm's "nephew."
------Just like that, the voice in his head was screaming unbearably loud. When his cousin mentioned the colour of the warrior's gaze, Anselm had pictured one thing. What he saw now was completely different. His first instinct was to deem her blind; usually those with such cloudy eyes had lost their vision to scar tissue (or something, that was how he understood it at least). She seemed to be watching him, though, not just listening--and this perplexed him greatly.
------He pivoted slowly to face her, watching carefully as she released her grip on the spear (and noting that she could easily wield it again within seconds, if the need arose). The twin garnets of his eyes now rose to her unmarked white ones as his rump simultaneously lowered to the ground. His tail, still rather thick and bushy despite the warmth of the season, curled neatly around his body and rested next to his left foot.
------Increasingly he became aware of the unnatural pause in their so-far one-sided conversation: she had asked him a question, and he'd failed to respond. Who could blame the guy for needing a moment to digest and collect his thoughts? "Gabriel never mentioned you could defy the laws of Nature," he stated at length, his tone remarkably even for such a bold (and ridiculous) statement. He continued to stare intently at her eyes--though as with her, this was not in challenge (as it may have been under any other circumstance). He was just damn confused. He wanted a closer look (surely there was some kind of reasonable explanation), but he didn't want to get close enough to take it, either.
------"As for your question," he continued shortly, "isn't it obvious? Your pack has laid claim to damn near the entire breadth of this peninsula, sans Halifax. Coming up from the south, I really had no choice but to trail along the perimeter if I wanted to get home." There was no sense in trying to keep under cover, so he spoke of Gabriel and the path to Inferni freely. This strangely marked woman was clearly somewhat comfortable with the coyotes, which was impressive given her citizenship of a nation that had proven one of their greater enemies.