01-16-2012, 10:23 PM
She had spent the morning memorizing the layout of the pack lands. She would have to see what she could do about transplanting some lavender into the packlands. She yawned and stretched, then shook herself. Using the Lupus form was making her scarred leg ache, especially on nights when the snow fell in large wet clumps. She had hoped using it more would help it by stretching the muscles, but the limp was still pronounced.
A sound caught her attention, the sound of wet dirt and leaves hitting the ground. She made her way to where the sound had come from. As the pale male came into view, she dipped her head politely, dredging his name from the memory of the first pack meeting. "Thoirní. You look well. I hope I am not intruding?" Her voice was polite and warm, as if they had been friends for far longer than they actually had known each other. She doubted if he would even recall her, though she supposed she was fairly recognizable as she was.
She stood a polite distance away, poised to slip away if he intimated that she was in fact disturbing his solitude. She wondered for a moment why she hadn't seen him around too much. Perhaps it was just because he was one of those who longed for their own solitude, even within the confines of a pack. Given the dirt staining his snowy pelt, she assumed she was correct in her thoughts. She shuffled her feet for a moment, then spoke softly.
"If I am bothering you with my presence, you can tell me. I understand the wish for solitude." Her face implied that she wouldn't blame him if he wished her to walk away, but it also vaguely hinted that she would like to visit, that she was feeling lonely and misplaced. And perhaps the Rhiannon matriarch was feeling a little out of place here. She didn't mind sleeping in the pack den, she didn't mind the posturing, the hierarchy. She just missed having her own space, her knapsack and her books. Knowing what she was coming to, she had left them all behind. Still, she missed writing in her journal, sketching pictures of family and friends. It was hard to remember that though the optime form wasn't outlawed here, it was discouraged to involve oneself in things that were overly humanistic.
((WC: 397))
A sound caught her attention, the sound of wet dirt and leaves hitting the ground. She made her way to where the sound had come from. As the pale male came into view, she dipped her head politely, dredging his name from the memory of the first pack meeting. "Thoirní. You look well. I hope I am not intruding?" Her voice was polite and warm, as if they had been friends for far longer than they actually had known each other. She doubted if he would even recall her, though she supposed she was fairly recognizable as she was.
She stood a polite distance away, poised to slip away if he intimated that she was in fact disturbing his solitude. She wondered for a moment why she hadn't seen him around too much. Perhaps it was just because he was one of those who longed for their own solitude, even within the confines of a pack. Given the dirt staining his snowy pelt, she assumed she was correct in her thoughts. She shuffled her feet for a moment, then spoke softly.
"If I am bothering you with my presence, you can tell me. I understand the wish for solitude." Her face implied that she wouldn't blame him if he wished her to walk away, but it also vaguely hinted that she would like to visit, that she was feeling lonely and misplaced. And perhaps the Rhiannon matriarch was feeling a little out of place here. She didn't mind sleeping in the pack den, she didn't mind the posturing, the hierarchy. She just missed having her own space, her knapsack and her books. Knowing what she was coming to, she had left them all behind. Still, she missed writing in her journal, sketching pictures of family and friends. It was hard to remember that though the optime form wasn't outlawed here, it was discouraged to involve oneself in things that were overly humanistic.
((WC: 397))