01-13-2010, 11:40 AM
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Word Count: 875 - SoSuWriMo The femme was either shy or weird, or a combination of both. Perhaps intimidated; there was no telling by her behavior. But she was not hostile though her furs had bristled at one point of their encounter. His gaze flew to study her as he worked but he said nothing, though when she complimented him on his decorations he looked up at her openly and gave a small smile, a polite smile. He did not really understand why some seemed to want to compliment his braids, for to him it was just normal dress code to wear them, as were the feathers and beads, though he could easily understand that to some they looked foreign. He had felt the same when he had seen how many there were of them here, who did not braid or bead their manes at all. It had been strange at first, but he had come to understand that what he had in his mane, they put in their stance. It was all the same, but in different realms altogether. "Thank you." His voice was hopefully not as foreign to her as the rest of him, as it was quite warm and friendly, and accopmanied by a small smile. Sure, there was a hint of authority deep in his throat, but this was not the part of his voice that dominated. When she repeated the name of his rank, the Kalona gave a mental sigh at himself. Why had he even mentioned it? He did not like formalities, not when they were not necessary. Dawali was not this femme's leader, and he was not out on a diplomatic mission, and thus there was no need for her to address him formally at all. He gave a mental cringe as she apologized and removed herself from him, mentally, and an inch or so in the physical realm. Still though, this femme was not behaving meekly, not like a beaten deer in a pit of lions, and he appreciated that. He did not like it when submission robbed someone of their identity. He remembered well some joiners who bowed and scraped as if he was a god or king, but he was neither. He was just a wolf like them, but with many more worries and many, many more duties. For that, perhaps, he deserved their respect, but he did not want it in that form. He did not want to be feared, but looked up to, and respected for his justness and wisdom (though compared to the elders of the iriginal tribe, he had no wisdom at all). He replied whilst his eyes remained on the work his figners were doing, though his voice was not as unattentive as his gaze. "There is no need for apologies or permissions. I am not your Chief, and you are not on my land. Out here, you and I are equal." The storm around them had worsened, and just as he decided to ask her who she actually did belong with (for there was a scent on her that he should recognize, was there not?), a bolt of lightning shook the skies around them. It lit up the sky, and the male started and looked upwards, his ears twitching and noticing Belle's nervous whinnies in the background. Getting up, he decided it would be best if he checked on her, thinking to make sure she was tied well to a tree so she would not panic and run away. How oblivious was he of trees and the danger they served in weather such as this. He hastily mumbled an "excuse me" to Zynex as he got up, noticing for a moment that she had not stirred at all. Perhaps she was used to this weather, or enjoyed it. Perhaps to her, lightning was a good sign, but for Dawali's beliefs it was not. With long strides he came over to the horse, calmed her with some soothing words and secured the knot which fastened her reins to the tree. Quickly unpacking a large blanket from the packs on her back, he threw it over her and took the containers with him to the shelter. She would be fine - she was a brave horse - but he did not want his items to get wet, and there was no room for Belle in his little shelter. Sitting back down under the leather roof, he threw the packs into the corner where the tree grew out of the ground, but only after retrieving two rocks from it. He intended to make a fire, but first he looked at the ground aronud them. There was no twig or little piece of wood or dead plant that was not soggy, and this definetely presented a problem. Thinking, Dawali threw their little encounter back into small-talk, though his eyes searched their surroundings for anything that might help his plan along. "So, what brings you around here?" He didn't have to elaborate; it was obvious that she was a stranger to this place, given her somewhat unconventional way around him. Even if others that had lived here a long time might find him strange, none acted such as this one. She would fit in eventually though, he was certain. |