.denvergift b {font-weight:bold; color:#f1c86d; letter-spacing:1px; }
.denvergiftooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:10px;}
.denvergift p {text-indent:25px;padding:5px 25px;margin:0px;}
.denvergift {width:425px;border:1px solid #181b22;background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v26/K ... rtable.png);background-position:bottom center;background-repeat:no-repeat;padding-bottom:185px;background-color:#9b6e3c;text-align:justify;margin:10px;font-family:"Trebuchet MS", tahoma, sans-serif;font-size:11px;line-height:12px;color:#181b22;}
</style>
this'll be fun... some of denver's least favorite things. xD
Snow was yet another thing that Denver had come to have distinct distaste for. Though it was pretty and bright and all of those nice things, it was also disgusting. For a few still moments, it was fine, but as soon as he started to move through it and feel that cold wetness clinging to his fur and clothing, he immediately desired to get out of it. Denver was thankful that the layer of frost on the ground on this day was thin; it didn't even touch the legs of his pants. His feet still got wet, though, and the begrudged frown he wore was evidence of his discontent.
Duty had dragged him out of the ruins. A day which might have been pleasantly restful had become something less when he set out with his job in mind. If he did some work every day, he tried to tell himself, then he would always have plenty of time for rest and leisure. Having an easily distracted mind, of course, the ivory mutt still sometimes found himself indulging in his own pleasures rather than the needs of his packmates. He had decided that this day would not be one of those.
He had risen before the sun, and so before the it was high he had completed what he considered a satisfactory amount of work. Happy with his own work, he thought he might head back to the Ruins; maybe Maggie as awake by now. He didn't make it there, though, before stopping short at the sight of a familiar figure. This time,though, he was with an even younger boy. "Bastion?" he called as he neared, despite knowing the short gray man-boy's features well. The snow crunched beneath his feet and Denver cringed; the sound was awful. "That your kid?" he grumbled as pale blues stared down at the reddish pup, already unsettled by the look that the kid gave him.