08-12-2009, 11:53 PM
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"Oh.." The word came quietly, his immediate response to the other man's comment about there not, or likely not, being horses in the valley. Instead of seeming deeply disappointed by this, even though he was a bit, he lifted his eyes to the other man's face and offered a faint smile. "Maybe we can change that one day." It would take a lot of work and research but as far as Haephastus was concerned, aside from pack duties, he had all the time in the world to learn and try. "I will have to look in to it." He said with a nod. They might be useful to the pack, after all, but he wouldn't want to do something so large and drastic without speaking to their Patriarch about it first. He didn't suppose Jefferson would be to thrilled to stumble out of his home one morning to find horses there.
"I was named after Hephaestus." He admitted quietly, fond of the name. "But my parents spelled it differently than the god Hephaestus and it is pronounced just a touch differently as well." The foreign man explained. "My mother was a lover of history and the arts." And that was pretty much why she had given him such a name. The woman had held high hopes for her first son, he supposed that she had never expected him to grow up to be an assassin. She was proud of him none-the-less though, and that was all that mattered to him.
Shifting his weight some, Haephastus leaned over against the fence, resting his bandaged arm, and being sure to curl the only two remaining fingers inward, against the wood. "I came from a place called Jerusalem, far across the ocean." He explained quietly, hiding the hesitance in his voice. "I left there many months ago though, traveled for a long time, until I decided that here was the place I would like to settle." And it seemed as if he had chosen a prime place, for he had been welcomed with open arms. "Were you born here?" The man queried, hoping that it didn't seem as if he was prying.
"I was named after Hephaestus." He admitted quietly, fond of the name. "But my parents spelled it differently than the god Hephaestus and it is pronounced just a touch differently as well." The foreign man explained. "My mother was a lover of history and the arts." And that was pretty much why she had given him such a name. The woman had held high hopes for her first son, he supposed that she had never expected him to grow up to be an assassin. She was proud of him none-the-less though, and that was all that mattered to him.
Shifting his weight some, Haephastus leaned over against the fence, resting his bandaged arm, and being sure to curl the only two remaining fingers inward, against the wood. "I came from a place called Jerusalem, far across the ocean." He explained quietly, hiding the hesitance in his voice. "I left there many months ago though, traveled for a long time, until I decided that here was the place I would like to settle." And it seemed as if he had chosen a prime place, for he had been welcomed with open arms. "Were you born here?" The man queried, hoping that it didn't seem as if he was prying.