where the light gets in

Sparrow · 06-01-2012, 07:02 PM

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she hid around corners and she hid under bed
she killed it with kisses and from it she fled

Word Count → 311 :: ooc here

The mottled coyote blushed under her dusty fur as Dalgina commented on her name. “Thank you,” she replied humbly, the bush again shaking as she turned to face the girl instead of the way of escape. “I like your name, too.” It was unusual; Sparrow was used to hearing natural words for titles, Vesper’s being the only one she found odd before she had met Nova Scotia canines. It seemed ever since she stepped upon these foreign soils, her ears were graced with strange noises, sweet in tone, that were people’s name. How simple was a Sparrow, compared to a Dalgina.

As she tried to get a good look at the dark girl, it seemed that her mane hid her face, just like her hood did for her. “That sounds nice,” the voice from the bush commented, honestly finding what they created to be of interested. “Was that what you were doing? Were you painting? I saw you drop it some of it.” Sparrow wondered if she meant a different kind of painting than just simply camouflaging to mix with the environment, since the bright colors she used were of no use for one whom was trying to hide. She went on further to ask, “What were you painting, Dalgina?”

The woman was even more curious about this d’Arte, and felt that her mouth was full of questions about it. But, she wanted to take it slow, and did not want to rush things too fast to make the other confused. “Does Cercatori d’Arte trade their items? Who do they trade with?” She doubted that they came up north very often; she had never met a wolf that was an Artisan, nor heard much about them, and wondered with whom they traded with, in attempt to gather more information about the packs of the south as well as being kindly curious.

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