Decisions

Orin Takekuro · 12-08-2010, 04:45 PM

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5 points

She let out a little squeal of surprised glee when Ouija’s arm slipped around her waist and pulled her close. Never one to defer from well practiced charm, Orin let the man pull her up against him and played the part of startled-yet-flattered female well. She giggled softly and ran a hand over one of the tinted portions of his arm, feeling the texture the blood left behind in his fur.

“Oh, that’s true. I might have to borrow this idea for a little while until the flowers come back; at least once I run out of the dye I’ve already got mixed up, if it’s even good anymore.” She flipped a couple of her dreadlocks with her hand. “They tend to grow out and fade a lot during the winter when I can’t find anything to make pink dye from. But this is kind of pink here...” she spoke casually as she peered at a spot on his arm where the blood was only a faint layer, and against his white fur had a reddish-pink tint.

Her gaze trailed back to the key Ouija was crafting and her eyes blazed with excitement when he offered to give it to her when he was finished. “Ooooh really?! I would be honored to have it! By the way, what’s a tribu-” Her words were cut short by a gruff noise from Shawchert. She turned her eyes to the Captain and her ears laid back like a chastised pup’s.

“I’m sorry,” she eked out in a small voice as she slowly deflated, slipping out of Ouija’s arm and coming to a seated position next to him. The stubborn streak in her was about to regale Shawchert with no small amount of back-talk, but even Orin knew that this was neither the time nor the place, and bit her lip. Though she could not help the shock of hot anger that coursed through, and it showed on her face once her embarrassment faded. All she wanted to do was to get to know her pack mate, after all! And her impatience did not agree with the prospect of, ‘you can do that later.’

Giving a wolfish half-sigh, half-snort, something she was more apt to do in her Lupus form though her wolf side was more present at the moment thanks to her agitation, she replayed their discussion in her mind, bringing back whatever business it was that they had been talking about while she had been preoccupied fussing over Ouija.

“Moose,” she muttered towards Ouija, then turned back to Shawchert, adding her idea into the mix. “What about moose? They’re huge and give a lot of meat. If we take down a couple now we could easily store that up in lockers and preserve it in the snow. Personally I’m not a fan of old meat but it’s not so bad when it’s cooked. And the bones make a good soup.” She shrugged. This was a strange, rare sight; a very adult Orin was speaking right now, with little of her usual verve. To someone who knew her well, it may have been a little alarming. “They also have a large pelt so I imagine we could do a lot with just a few kills. And if we can take a male or two, there’s also the antlers... those may be useful for trade or art or something. All we have to do is search the fresh streams, and as they freeze up that will narrow down the moose's stomping grounds a bit, too.”

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