10-23-2008, 07:44 PM
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500+
Rosea... leader of the pack.
The black ears swiveled back shyly and with more than marginal shock. Her posture shifted slightly, as if she were attempting to make up for the lack of her knowledge, but she hesitated too, awkward and unsure. But the wolf’s air was noticeably submissive, but it was not as if she had been domineering prior. The shy female simply did not have the disposition. Of course, this was mostly due to the novelty of meeting with new creatures; familiarity was a different picture—no disrespect, but the warrior wolf had a savage bite.
“I’m sorry; I did not know.” The voice was quiet, but not fearful, nor did it tremble. There simply had been none to tell you who lead the pack. She had assumed—and wrongly so, it seemed—that Haku had been leader of Dahlia de Mai, as he had been the only authority figure she had met thus far, and, since he had met her at the boarders, she knew that he held some authority within this pack. But it was this white female who lead Dahlia. There was much that she did not know within the pack, but she did not expect her knowledge to be such a disappointment. She was a bit ashamed of herself for not having asked more about the pack initially, but it was still not too late. The woad-marked female shuffled bashfully, but held her silence as Cercelee continued.
A small but warm smile graced the black maw. A ghost? Such a story was something she could relate with. The golden afternoon brightened her mood, as she found the colours of the day fitting for the Rosea’s story. A small, melodic chuckle escaped the throat of the black female. Vain indeed. But the white colouring seemed unique on this particular female, and her cerulean eyes were striking.
Pack meetings. The banded ears twitched, as if itching to prick forward. She was glad that her conclusion had been the right one. But what would she call this place? “I usually don’t call things by name...” The bird’s voice trailed off as she fell to thought. The white orbs turned towards the midday sky, observing not the cloudless sky but something far beyond. “This place...” the eyes took a quick sweep of the stone ground beneath her feet. “... it is a place of cool stone, and a place of congregation...” She trailed off once more, her brow furrowing slightly with thought. She had never seen a place quite like this one. What was it called? In her homeland, she knew of an ancient language. She was far from being fluent in it, but she spoke a little. Usually, if she did not know what something was, she’d fall back upon that ancient tongue. It had a nice sound as well. “I might call this place Locus Gelamenis or perhaps Occursus Silicis...” Place of Gathering. Meeting of Stone. Such names were simple and archaic, but complexity was not necessarily better, she had learned.
“Perhaps, if nothing was occupying your self, you could help get to know this place better...?” ‘This place’ referred to the entirety of the pack, but Cwmfen deliberately did not specify. She simply did not want to impose.
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500+
Rosea... leader of the pack.
The black ears swiveled back shyly and with more than marginal shock. Her posture shifted slightly, as if she were attempting to make up for the lack of her knowledge, but she hesitated too, awkward and unsure. But the wolf’s air was noticeably submissive, but it was not as if she had been domineering prior. The shy female simply did not have the disposition. Of course, this was mostly due to the novelty of meeting with new creatures; familiarity was a different picture—no disrespect, but the warrior wolf had a savage bite.
“I’m sorry; I did not know.” The voice was quiet, but not fearful, nor did it tremble. There simply had been none to tell you who lead the pack. She had assumed—and wrongly so, it seemed—that Haku had been leader of Dahlia de Mai, as he had been the only authority figure she had met thus far, and, since he had met her at the boarders, she knew that he held some authority within this pack. But it was this white female who lead Dahlia. There was much that she did not know within the pack, but she did not expect her knowledge to be such a disappointment. She was a bit ashamed of herself for not having asked more about the pack initially, but it was still not too late. The woad-marked female shuffled bashfully, but held her silence as Cercelee continued.
A small but warm smile graced the black maw. A ghost? Such a story was something she could relate with. The golden afternoon brightened her mood, as she found the colours of the day fitting for the Rosea’s story. A small, melodic chuckle escaped the throat of the black female. Vain indeed. But the white colouring seemed unique on this particular female, and her cerulean eyes were striking.
Pack meetings. The banded ears twitched, as if itching to prick forward. She was glad that her conclusion had been the right one. But what would she call this place? “I usually don’t call things by name...” The bird’s voice trailed off as she fell to thought. The white orbs turned towards the midday sky, observing not the cloudless sky but something far beyond. “This place...” the eyes took a quick sweep of the stone ground beneath her feet. “... it is a place of cool stone, and a place of congregation...” She trailed off once more, her brow furrowing slightly with thought. She had never seen a place quite like this one. What was it called? In her homeland, she knew of an ancient language. She was far from being fluent in it, but she spoke a little. Usually, if she did not know what something was, she’d fall back upon that ancient tongue. It had a nice sound as well. “I might call this place Locus Gelamenis or perhaps Occursus Silicis...” Place of Gathering. Meeting of Stone. Such names were simple and archaic, but complexity was not necessarily better, she had learned.
“Perhaps, if nothing was occupying your self, you could help get to know this place better...?” ‘This place’ referred to the entirety of the pack, but Cwmfen deliberately did not specify. She simply did not want to impose.