[aw] udugigvdi ale gvgeyui

Anatole Aston · 07-15-2012, 11:14 AM

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(309) I like him. :3

Silence was a thing Anatole welcomed; he had been in the heart of it, trapped in the northern wastes, and known silence as a truer companion than his fellows. It gave him no pleasure to hear his own voice, nor to speak to himself as he had witnessed others doing. He was content to observe, and watch. Anatole was a visual man as opposed to one driven by his other senses; only smell was stronger, and he used this as he used his eyes. Some trails were easier to see by shutting out the rest of the world.

If it should have been apparent his own accent puzzled the red wolf, Anatole, observant or not, missed this. He was still stunted when it came to things such as conversation and subtlety, having little familiarity with either. Sarcasm, especially, was still hard for him. Irony and passive-aggressiveness were completely misinterpreted, and he had a penchant for thinking certain tonal shifts were mental disorders.

So when the man spoke, Anatole missed the implication that this branch of the Tribe might be lacking in capable men. He missed this just as he missed the fact that the native-son considered them outsiders, as if they were not true because of their bloodlines or distance. A man who might have caught those things might have grown defensive, or angry—Anatole did neither, and merely regarded his companion as he might a child who spoke far too much.

“There are several of us,” he said with that same direct method. “Who hold Skilled ranks. We lost our Masters to the war; I don’t know if they explained that to you,” Anatole went on, looking the decorated man in the face. “But this place suffered from bad guidance. So no, I don’t expect it to be like your home. It is not like it was before.”

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