OoC: Pretty table!
At first, the big male had been furious. Then he ran it off, and had a heart-to-heart talk with Hanna, and realized his mistake. Then he felt remorse, and guilt, and all those painful emotions that made him want to avoid everyone in the pack. More time had passed than he realized, and still Cercelee hadn't approached him, hadn't gone near the cemetery he camped out at. There had been no pack meetings since the group hunt, and Slay was beginning to feel worry niggling at him again, wondering how the Rosea was doing. Maybe she really doesn't want to see me again. Maybe she really is better off without me. Slay didn't want to drive Cer away from him, but now he had done just that, and felt that hypocritical need to win her back again.
"Or at least... see how she's doing," he rationalized out loud, making up his mind before entering town. The arctic wolf wandered through the empty streets of Wolfville, padding on all fours in the snowy surroundings. He caught traces of other packmates, none of the encounters recent enough to worry about, and tried to imagine what he'd find, if he'd say anything. Maybe it would be better if he just watched to see if she was alright, and if so, he could leave her be. She obviously didn't want to see him, so...? No, no, that was cowardly. He should at least let her know that he would still be around, that he had no plans of leaving the pack... of leaving her...
His pace quickened subconsciously, anxious to right the wrong he had committed. Things might not be the same between them, but anything would be better than no contact at all. He snuffled his way unsuccessfully through Berwick, and was ready to give up and ask someone for directions, when he caught her scent. It led off towards the barren vineyard, near where he had first met Firefly and Desaevio, towards a tall human building obscured by trees. Had she chosen a human dwelling for a den? That must mean she was shifted inside, like almost everyone else in their pack had chosen. He knew he couldn't put off learning the skill forever, especially when his companions were all so much more comfortable on two legs. It didn't disgust him like it used to; rather, it was a matter of needing help now. Becoming taller meant one's surroundings would be smaller - to a wolf uncomfortable with tight spaces, it was an unappealing prospect. He would definitely need to be walked through it. But that was neither here nor there...
Slay cautiously circled the church, recognizing the cross symbols present from the gravestones he was familiar with. He might be ignorant to the full connotation, but he could at least link the two together, and it brought a sad smile to his face. He missed her. His pale eyes sought movement through the colourful panes of glass, but there was nothing to be found. Was she not home? But there were no pawprints leaving the domicile...
His stature was large for a wolf, but quite short by human standards of course, and he could just barely peek into the last set of windowpanes, these unlike the others. He rose onto his hind legs, settling his front paws on the sill for balance, and blew on the glass, trying to defrost the rimed surface. When he could get a good look inside, he inhaled sharply, snowy ears back with embarrassment. There was Cercelee, staring right back at him from her bed!
I've got soul but I'm not a soldier
