not a prayer for the refugee

Loviere Dinabalo · 09-25-2011, 05:14 PM

[html]

Word Count :: 434 Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

His northern journey had been unsatisfying, to say the least. The cripple now sported new cuts and scrapes, some loosely bandaged by cloth he had found on the way home. As close as he was, he did not wish to yet venture back into the pack territory. The amateur carpenter lifted a free hand to scratch the head of the raccoon clinging to his shoulders. Loviere grimaced with displeasure as the depressing thoughts once again invaded his mind. He had recently begun to realize just how far behind he was in terms of intelligence to others, even some younger than he. It was humiliating to think of what people might think of him when they learned of how slow he truly was.

"Oct, I won't ever know why you stay with me," he mumbled softly, just loud enough so that the coon might hear. The raccoon nudged him in the neck affectionately, nibbling on the new blue scarf that Loviere wore. Loviere could not express words for how grateful he was to have the little companion almost wherever he went. As far as women went, Loviere doubted he would ever find a suitable mate. At the very least he had his little masked brother. The young man continued walking, his crutch thumping along the soft forest earth. The beauty of the Ethereal Eclipse never ceased to astound him. The lush green shade of the trees provided a safe haven for the wanderer. He had yet to find a place inside the territory of the pack that rivaled the forest in terms of beauty in his opinion. But then, there were many places in d'Arte that he had not been.

"Vi, no worries. We're family, we are. We stick together." The little creature spoke quickly, never stumbling over the High Speech. Octavian was better at speaking High Speech than Loviere was at speaking Low. This was a fact that the raccoon prided himself on, but he still he had much to learn.

The wolf's black-splotched tail rose and fell with gratitude to the raccoon's response. At times he felt even the little creature was wiser than most Luperci he had met. Octavian used few words, but those that he did have were often exceedingly heartfelt, Loviere noted with a pang in his chest. He longed for the ability to have those deep feelings that so many others had. Most of the time, the man could only think in simple terms. Black or white, rarely any shades of grey. He understood little else. But as he lacked understanding, he did not lack the longing to understand.

table by the Mentors!

Login




Remember me Lost Password?