02-22-2010, 09:31 PM
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OOC Notes:
Wc: 688
Blinking her turquoises at her companion, Ghita's head suddenly found itself dipping in a tilt, the right side of her cranium pointing towards the snow beneath her paws. Something inside of her bristled, sending a shiver down to her haunches that was only barely contained from reaching physical manifestation. There had been no reason that Ghita was aware of for the need of formalities; the wayward and less than formal wolfess rarely threw around titles even towards those who deserved it. That's not saying that the respect wasn't there, simply that she never felt the need to remind someone of their title.
There was no chance of not hearing Flayra's request correctly; her native language was as clear as a sparkling brook to her, but the request seemed odd and out of the blue. The fae twitched her ears in thought, letting the piercings on her one ear reflect the sun as they moved.
Italian was one of those languages that resurrected many feelings in the woman, feelings that both confused her and angered her. The language itself she loved - the dipping tones and relaxed lilts carried her over the sea that separated her from her homeland and spoke to her senses, filling her optics with wondrous sights and her ears with laughing linguistics. It was remembering how she used the language that revived the older demons.
The home life that Ghita shared with her sister and brother was less than pleasant, to say the least. Of course, the fae had encountered older lives much worse than her own, but she wasn't about to nominate Serge for parental recogntion anytime soon. The only time that Ghita actually enjoyed what she said in Italy was with the nomads, and even that time in paradise was tainted; she had just suffered a miscarriage, and later witnessed her mate's affair and his departure.
Rolling her shoulders as if shaking off those bad times, Ghita let the silence stretch for perhaps longer than was kind. The decision wasn't necessarily a hard one to make, simply that the woman tended to have little patience for the structure and discipline, let alone the patience that teaching required. I fear I might not be good teaching, but I can try, if you wish. From where comes your interest in my tongue?"
Now her focus was elsewhere, her mind pushing out all memories of Italia and her talks with Flayra, only retaining enough to know that her hunting companion was not too far off. She was to take the lead in this hunt - so be it, but it required a multitude of concentration in many different areas. Fortunately, Ghita was a master at switching her focus (maintaining it on one thing was a whole other story), and showed it in the way she moved.
The ivory innocence flew from beneath her paws, an ebony detecter caressing the air around her as the fae maneuvered the terrain. To the average bystander, her movements would seem scattered, not co-ordinated in the slightest, but Ghita had her methodology that had suited her in the past. Only two minutes elapsed before finally a scent hit her nostrils, eliciting only the slightest change in posture before the woman straightened her course and increased her speed.
Whipping her head over her shoulder to meet Flayra's gaze, the dust-colored fae gave a quick nod, cutting off sound for the time as she approached. Ghita couldn't tell from this distance how many individuals there were, but it was always foolish to become cocky and lose your advantage in the hunt - surprise. Luckily for the pair, two or three bodies graced the land, the deer keeping a slow gait towards the forest that mimicked a lazy walk.
Ceasing her pace for the moment, Ghita waited for her companion to join her, keeping her body low and close to the ground. "I think it would be best to engage from far right - deer moving slower thanks to hurt back leg, see? Would you like if I came from straight behind it, and you cut off as I chase? Then we bring down. Good?"
OOC Notes:
Wc: 688
Blinking her turquoises at her companion, Ghita's head suddenly found itself dipping in a tilt, the right side of her cranium pointing towards the snow beneath her paws. Something inside of her bristled, sending a shiver down to her haunches that was only barely contained from reaching physical manifestation. There had been no reason that Ghita was aware of for the need of formalities; the wayward and less than formal wolfess rarely threw around titles even towards those who deserved it. That's not saying that the respect wasn't there, simply that she never felt the need to remind someone of their title.
There was no chance of not hearing Flayra's request correctly; her native language was as clear as a sparkling brook to her, but the request seemed odd and out of the blue. The fae twitched her ears in thought, letting the piercings on her one ear reflect the sun as they moved.
Italian was one of those languages that resurrected many feelings in the woman, feelings that both confused her and angered her. The language itself she loved - the dipping tones and relaxed lilts carried her over the sea that separated her from her homeland and spoke to her senses, filling her optics with wondrous sights and her ears with laughing linguistics. It was remembering how she used the language that revived the older demons.
The home life that Ghita shared with her sister and brother was less than pleasant, to say the least. Of course, the fae had encountered older lives much worse than her own, but she wasn't about to nominate Serge for parental recogntion anytime soon. The only time that Ghita actually enjoyed what she said in Italy was with the nomads, and even that time in paradise was tainted; she had just suffered a miscarriage, and later witnessed her mate's affair and his departure.
Rolling her shoulders as if shaking off those bad times, Ghita let the silence stretch for perhaps longer than was kind. The decision wasn't necessarily a hard one to make, simply that the woman tended to have little patience for the structure and discipline, let alone the patience that teaching required. I fear I might not be good teaching, but I can try, if you wish. From where comes your interest in my tongue?"
Now her focus was elsewhere, her mind pushing out all memories of Italia and her talks with Flayra, only retaining enough to know that her hunting companion was not too far off. She was to take the lead in this hunt - so be it, but it required a multitude of concentration in many different areas. Fortunately, Ghita was a master at switching her focus (maintaining it on one thing was a whole other story), and showed it in the way she moved.
The ivory innocence flew from beneath her paws, an ebony detecter caressing the air around her as the fae maneuvered the terrain. To the average bystander, her movements would seem scattered, not co-ordinated in the slightest, but Ghita had her methodology that had suited her in the past. Only two minutes elapsed before finally a scent hit her nostrils, eliciting only the slightest change in posture before the woman straightened her course and increased her speed.
Whipping her head over her shoulder to meet Flayra's gaze, the dust-colored fae gave a quick nod, cutting off sound for the time as she approached. Ghita couldn't tell from this distance how many individuals there were, but it was always foolish to become cocky and lose your advantage in the hunt - surprise. Luckily for the pair, two or three bodies graced the land, the deer keeping a slow gait towards the forest that mimicked a lazy walk.
Ceasing her pace for the moment, Ghita waited for her companion to join her, keeping her body low and close to the ground. "I think it would be best to engage from far right - deer moving slower thanks to hurt back leg, see? Would you like if I came from straight behind it, and you cut off as I chase? Then we bring down. Good?"