09-21-2008, 01:21 AM
ooc: wc 555
IC:
Her mother’s words quickly dashed the wily grin that had so rashly spread across her muzzle. But her expression didn’t disappear completely; rather it melted into a more sincere smile devoid of the hint of arrogance she harbored before. She understood a reminder when she heard one, and although she had supposed there was no real harm done, Magdalena was quick to lower her head and avert her gaze for a moment in a reverential display of capitulation.
“Sorry,” she smiled, “I couldn’t help the jest.”
She returned to her prior stance, still high spirited but this time her audacity tamed. She quickly recalled the vein their conversation had adopted just before her momentary mishap, and her thoughts resumed where they’d left off. Magda grew listless and a bit dreamy as she thought about the flowers, and those thoughts carried her into deeper troubles - namely her recent and relatively restless state.
For the past few days now she’d found it impossible to be pacified by the simplicities that held her attention before. It had occurred to her that she was virtually alone – she’d wandered away from her mother’s home, biding her time roaming the pack lands. She had no mate to speak of and no particular talent to offer the pack, and she was beginning to feel that it was high time for her sorry hide to pitch in. At first she’d misconstrued these feelings for wanderlust, but while reminiscing about her time spent in Ireland with DaVinci and Firefly, she had realized she only thought of that as an experience, and nothing more. She had little – no, she had no desire to leave the pack behind in exchange for travels. She knew it was her mother’s blood that rendered her so inherently loyal.
“Indeed, I’d just mangle the little flowers,” she sighed, looking at the flowerbed. “But… maybe I could try? There’s got to be something that blooms in the fall…”
Her voice trailed off as she padded back to the mashed flowers and diligently scooped soil over the remains, giving the crumpled little petals a proper burial beneath the very moist soil that had given them life. Once she was satisfied that the evidence of her bored wrath was concealed, she turned her gaze back to Iskata, smiling solemnly.
“Well, you can’t blame the pack for doting on such a dedicated leader.” She gave her mother another wayward glance, and immediately banished her own inner turmoil. She could tend to her own worries soon enough. Quirking her head to the side, she questioned cautiously, “Is there something to be worried about? You look…” she stopped herself, derailing what she was about to say in favor of better prose. She didn’t favor prying, knowing Iskata would voice it if it were any of her business, but she couldn’t help herself. “I mean, you look good, but I can help… or try… if you need anything, you know. I’ve been a little out of sorts myself lately, too… And after all, that’s what familiy’s for, if you need anything…”
She huffed a sigh, her previously lucid mind now clouded with thought and worry. She couldn’t voice herself elegantly when she felt like this, so wrapped up in her own concerns, and now curious if everything was well with her mother.
IC:
Her mother’s words quickly dashed the wily grin that had so rashly spread across her muzzle. But her expression didn’t disappear completely; rather it melted into a more sincere smile devoid of the hint of arrogance she harbored before. She understood a reminder when she heard one, and although she had supposed there was no real harm done, Magdalena was quick to lower her head and avert her gaze for a moment in a reverential display of capitulation.
“Sorry,” she smiled, “I couldn’t help the jest.”
She returned to her prior stance, still high spirited but this time her audacity tamed. She quickly recalled the vein their conversation had adopted just before her momentary mishap, and her thoughts resumed where they’d left off. Magda grew listless and a bit dreamy as she thought about the flowers, and those thoughts carried her into deeper troubles - namely her recent and relatively restless state.
For the past few days now she’d found it impossible to be pacified by the simplicities that held her attention before. It had occurred to her that she was virtually alone – she’d wandered away from her mother’s home, biding her time roaming the pack lands. She had no mate to speak of and no particular talent to offer the pack, and she was beginning to feel that it was high time for her sorry hide to pitch in. At first she’d misconstrued these feelings for wanderlust, but while reminiscing about her time spent in Ireland with DaVinci and Firefly, she had realized she only thought of that as an experience, and nothing more. She had little – no, she had no desire to leave the pack behind in exchange for travels. She knew it was her mother’s blood that rendered her so inherently loyal.
“Indeed, I’d just mangle the little flowers,” she sighed, looking at the flowerbed. “But… maybe I could try? There’s got to be something that blooms in the fall…”
Her voice trailed off as she padded back to the mashed flowers and diligently scooped soil over the remains, giving the crumpled little petals a proper burial beneath the very moist soil that had given them life. Once she was satisfied that the evidence of her bored wrath was concealed, she turned her gaze back to Iskata, smiling solemnly.
“Well, you can’t blame the pack for doting on such a dedicated leader.” She gave her mother another wayward glance, and immediately banished her own inner turmoil. She could tend to her own worries soon enough. Quirking her head to the side, she questioned cautiously, “Is there something to be worried about? You look…” she stopped herself, derailing what she was about to say in favor of better prose. She didn’t favor prying, knowing Iskata would voice it if it were any of her business, but she couldn’t help herself. “I mean, you look good, but I can help… or try… if you need anything, you know. I’ve been a little out of sorts myself lately, too… And after all, that’s what familiy’s for, if you need anything…”
She huffed a sigh, her previously lucid mind now clouded with thought and worry. She couldn’t voice herself elegantly when she felt like this, so wrapped up in her own concerns, and now curious if everything was well with her mother.