08-06-2009, 11:54 AM
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OOC: I miss Gael so much 
400+
The grey wolf had risen early to find the city nearly flooded. Had it been this bad for nearly a week? He was tired of it all, this downpour, this grey sheet of water that seemed never to stop. Wouldn't it end, really? He heaved himself out of bed, his bones tired from the way he tossed and turned every night. Mew was still sleeping and for a moment he pondered waking her, just to share her company. However, something stopped him and he spent a few minutes slowly running his fingers through her mane, breathing in her scent. She was wonderful, beautiful, his one love, but his need, his desire for the burning liquid was sometimes almost too great. He'd taken to leaving the house in the dead of night to find stashes in Berwick. It hurt him to know that he was doing this against her wishes, but it was too much to bear.
The rain showed no sign of relenting. He would have to leave Dahlia again, just to keep his mind on his work. He was the pack's Ambassador, he wouldn't let Cercelee down. Today, he would go through Halifax and then east. His travels through the city had brought wind of a pack he'd yet to see for himself. Quietly, the grey wolf left his shelter and went on in the rain. It drenched him and he couldn't understand why he wasn't spending his time in better places, doing better things, like tending to his mate. The alcohol was a strong temptation, but one he could still fight, if he wanted to. And did Lubomir want to fight it! But some days, it seemed almost too hard. His feet mechanically took him through the eastern reaches of the city, while his mind boggled at how much Dahlia had grown. They had a lot of members to feed, but it was still a bit of a shock. He wondered if they were now the biggest pack around and how he would end up asking such a thing.
A familiar scent close to unfamiliar borders made him stop. Lubomir felt uneasy when he recognised the female from the lighthouse. That night had been all a blur, if she'd mentioned a name or a pack, he was not even sure any more. That should teach him. He approached the borders uneasily, though he stood far enough not to seem a threat. For once, he cursed the smell of pack on him. If she happened to be the leader, so much the better, but the male doubted his luck would hold out so long.
400+The grey wolf had risen early to find the city nearly flooded. Had it been this bad for nearly a week? He was tired of it all, this downpour, this grey sheet of water that seemed never to stop. Wouldn't it end, really? He heaved himself out of bed, his bones tired from the way he tossed and turned every night. Mew was still sleeping and for a moment he pondered waking her, just to share her company. However, something stopped him and he spent a few minutes slowly running his fingers through her mane, breathing in her scent. She was wonderful, beautiful, his one love, but his need, his desire for the burning liquid was sometimes almost too great. He'd taken to leaving the house in the dead of night to find stashes in Berwick. It hurt him to know that he was doing this against her wishes, but it was too much to bear.
The rain showed no sign of relenting. He would have to leave Dahlia again, just to keep his mind on his work. He was the pack's Ambassador, he wouldn't let Cercelee down. Today, he would go through Halifax and then east. His travels through the city had brought wind of a pack he'd yet to see for himself. Quietly, the grey wolf left his shelter and went on in the rain. It drenched him and he couldn't understand why he wasn't spending his time in better places, doing better things, like tending to his mate. The alcohol was a strong temptation, but one he could still fight, if he wanted to. And did Lubomir want to fight it! But some days, it seemed almost too hard. His feet mechanically took him through the eastern reaches of the city, while his mind boggled at how much Dahlia had grown. They had a lot of members to feed, but it was still a bit of a shock. He wondered if they were now the biggest pack around and how he would end up asking such a thing.
A familiar scent close to unfamiliar borders made him stop. Lubomir felt uneasy when he recognised the female from the lighthouse. That night had been all a blur, if she'd mentioned a name or a pack, he was not even sure any more. That should teach him. He approached the borders uneasily, though he stood far enough not to seem a threat. For once, he cursed the smell of pack on him. If she happened to be the leader, so much the better, but the male doubted his luck would hold out so long.