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Vesper · 02-20-2012, 04:47 PM

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Fluff not needed. <3

Emmanuelle answered her questions, though it was in a formal and concrete way as if she’d rehearsed her very words. That was possible, but it still caused a crooked smirk to quirk the side of the Optio’s lips; otherwise, she remained serious while listening. She found herself nodding with sympathy and understanding as the girl explained that she wanted kinship with coyotes rather than being looked down upon.

“You’ll find others who are in the same boat as you,” Vesper murmured. “Some go as far as to resent the wolves that cast them out—some, not all, and I hope hatred doesn’t have to be the norm.” She made this warning and amendment very quickly, so that Emma wouldn’t be stunned to hear that the species prejudice swung both ways, and so that she recognized there were sane Infernians among those who sang for wolf blood. After all, she was as much wolf as coyote, and had her father been a different man than Marcel, she might not have embraced her mother’s half quite so vigorously.

“Those are good skills to have, and you can hone them further as you train here,” she added, noting that none were out of the ordinary; but that made her, only newly turned luperci, feel better about herself. After all, she could claim the ability to fight and survive and nothing else before coming here. “I see no reason we shouldn’t be able to accept you.” Her tone changed from somber to warm, and she stepped forward from the border with tail swaying lightly behind her.

Emmanuelle asked her for her name before she could go on, and a sheepish look overtook the scarred woman’s face. “Oh, crap.” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “I knew I was forgetting something,” she said, smirking. “My name is Vesper.” She wondered if she should mention anything else. “I’m the Optio, a subleader and the head of the Lumen, or scouting, tier. We have a few different ones depending on what you choose do to here, like scouting or fighting or miscellaneous stuff such as gardening and tattooing.”

She stood firmly and met the young woman’s mismatched eyes once more, her tone changing once more from familiar to serious, her scarred brow furrowing. “I can accept you into the clan, but you need to swear loyalty to our Aquila—our leader Ezekiel—and to the clan. You should be willing to defend your clanmates with your life.” She knew it was a lot to ask of a yearling who hadn’t even met the Aquila yet, but it was all they truly asked: fight for your land and leader.

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