01-08-2011, 11:12 PM
OOC: Word Count: 505. Sorry for the wait. I kept getting interrupted. X_x
IC:
“Hello.” The tones that flowed forth from her delicate jaws were soft and silky. As per usual, she seemed to be speaking from far away, lending an ethereal quality to her lofty soprano. When the mascu approached, he had said nothing but she could feel the kind patience emanating from his personage. She had expected a threat, or at the very least a grizzled growl from his silvery muzzle. The man's coloring and milky eye gave her evidence to assume that he was older, but looking at his face and body, she realized he was yet young. He had marks and scars, most noticeably the missing portion of his left ear. If anyone was going to drive her off, surely it would be this battle ready male? He had a lean, hungry look about him, and yet kindness still reigned supreme in his mismatched eyes, one of which was possibly blind. He was merely waiting to discover what she wanted, she assumed. But what did she want, in truth? She did not seek a home. She would never dream of it in the face of so many wolves. Immediately her mind turned to an image of her limp corpse being tossed into the sky, whirling in the middle of the air like a bolo, leaving white streaks in her trail. A toy to them, a tasty tread that offered a tad of entertainment first. She would have made a lovely rag or chew toy to their young as well.
Saraqael shook her head outwardly. It likely left her greeter wondering what was going on but she was unconcerned. She just wanted to physically jiggle away the images. Recently she had been thinking of her own demise. It was not a morbid fascination or a wish for death. On the contrary, the girl very much desired to live a long, full, healthy life. But the prominence of the wolves, and then tension she perceived about them while living in Inferni, were getting to her thought processes. Every corner potentially held a snarling face that lusted after her destruction. The fearsome skulls littering the border were primarily of her larger, stronger cousins. It concerned her that they were then at war, that her head, for being slim and sharp with ears the size of mountain tops, was marked for death and specifically because she smelled like Inferni. No one had ever attacked her. She needed to stop being so afraid. Saraqael took a deep breath.
“I hail from Inferni,” she said, as though his olfactory senses were impaired. “I traveled long to come visit this pack. I do not know what it is called, but I heard there were wolves here.” These were more words than she had spoken to anyone in some time. Gulping nervously, she continued. “In the interest of diplomacy, I would like to declare myself a friend rather than a foe. I am Saraqael Destroying Angel Kanga.” She stared, colors flashing against the monotonous snow, and awaited his response.
IC:
“Hello.” The tones that flowed forth from her delicate jaws were soft and silky. As per usual, she seemed to be speaking from far away, lending an ethereal quality to her lofty soprano. When the mascu approached, he had said nothing but she could feel the kind patience emanating from his personage. She had expected a threat, or at the very least a grizzled growl from his silvery muzzle. The man's coloring and milky eye gave her evidence to assume that he was older, but looking at his face and body, she realized he was yet young. He had marks and scars, most noticeably the missing portion of his left ear. If anyone was going to drive her off, surely it would be this battle ready male? He had a lean, hungry look about him, and yet kindness still reigned supreme in his mismatched eyes, one of which was possibly blind. He was merely waiting to discover what she wanted, she assumed. But what did she want, in truth? She did not seek a home. She would never dream of it in the face of so many wolves. Immediately her mind turned to an image of her limp corpse being tossed into the sky, whirling in the middle of the air like a bolo, leaving white streaks in her trail. A toy to them, a tasty tread that offered a tad of entertainment first. She would have made a lovely rag or chew toy to their young as well.
Saraqael shook her head outwardly. It likely left her greeter wondering what was going on but she was unconcerned. She just wanted to physically jiggle away the images. Recently she had been thinking of her own demise. It was not a morbid fascination or a wish for death. On the contrary, the girl very much desired to live a long, full, healthy life. But the prominence of the wolves, and then tension she perceived about them while living in Inferni, were getting to her thought processes. Every corner potentially held a snarling face that lusted after her destruction. The fearsome skulls littering the border were primarily of her larger, stronger cousins. It concerned her that they were then at war, that her head, for being slim and sharp with ears the size of mountain tops, was marked for death and specifically because she smelled like Inferni. No one had ever attacked her. She needed to stop being so afraid. Saraqael took a deep breath.
“I hail from Inferni,” she said, as though his olfactory senses were impaired. “I traveled long to come visit this pack. I do not know what it is called, but I heard there were wolves here.” These were more words than she had spoken to anyone in some time. Gulping nervously, she continued. “In the interest of diplomacy, I would like to declare myself a friend rather than a foe. I am Saraqael Destroying Angel Kanga.” She stared, colors flashing against the monotonous snow, and awaited his response.