the moon and i

Vesper · 11-30-2011, 10:30 PM

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Word Count → 595 :: Haha okay. As you can see, my word counts are all over the place.

Vesper came forward when he gestured for her to and took a seat, watching him through slightly lowered eyelids and a hint of thoughtfulness. It took him some time to speak—and he did so ponderously, dropping one word at a time. She reasoned that he was probably unused to company; she personally had a hard time with conversation, especially after a long time without speaking to another being—something she figured would change now that she was in Inferni.

While his wariness in admitting that he was injured did not go unnoticed, the former loner couldn’t judge him for it. She could only keep a neutral front, hoping that he wouldn’t think her too much of a threat. There were darker creatures in the clan, anyway, and none of them would take advantage of a weakened newcomer to her knowledge—not without being provoked, and not without fearing punishment from the Aquila, if they were smart. Only Helotes had kicked her when she was down and taken in by the clan—and that situation had worked itself out quite rapidly. She was capable of learning her place.

After she left to get water, she expected that he would have settled back down, but he was still standing almost uncertainly or warily, or so she guessed. Her ears tilted back slightly, unsure of what to do to make him more comfortable. It wasn’t that she cared for his emotional health so much as she hated awkward situations such as this, and she didn’t really want to leave a bad impression on him if he was going to be around for a long time.

The male introduced himself as Wolfgang of Vorrakess—then amended his statement unexpectedly. He had an unusual accent, both thick and flowing, something that she was not at all used to and that made her uncomfortable. She was not as xenophobic as some, but the distinct cultures and accents of others made her fear for stepping on toes. It was unknown, and unknown was frightening, at least until she was able to pin it down and understand it—which was more than a lot of canines did, including her solitary mother.

“What is Vorrakess?” Vesper asked, hoping that she was right in assuming that Vorrakess was a place or a family. The different presentations of his name threw her off a bit, she who only had one name, and a simple one at that. She fought back a bark of laughter at being called “miss”—that was a title for refined single women or cute young ladies. She was neither, but she also knew that calling him out on it would be rude. She’d only ask him to drop the title if he was insistent in using it.

His question threw her completely off guard, and the smirk morphed into a self-conscious frown as she took a step back. “I—” she began ineloquently, wondering what expression she had even be making that he had to ask about. “Just don’t worry about it,” she told him hastily, not wanting a stranger to dwell on what faces she was making. Expressions were so enigmatic anyway, and often hid or muted emotions the canine did not want to let leak through. Her own smirks came naturally, a modified version of a smile that was not quite as sincere or warm.

“Don’t you—” she started once more, verbally flailing about for a word to latch onto, before she saw him flinch and frowned. “How hurt were you? Should you even be outside right now?”

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