02-04-2009, 11:23 PM
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The gray wolfess listened intently to Moose as he spoke. She concentrated on each word, not only because what he said had a lot of impact on what she'd decide to do next, but also because his brogue was so thick, she found it hard to understand him perfectly without paying careful attention. Details were important in any border interview, and Geneva would need any many details as possible. So far, this male hadn't proven himself to be a foe. He would be a threat, if he chose to. Geneva would defend these borders - and more importantly, those who lived within their sanctuary - with all the force she could muster. That didn't necessarily mean that'd be an effective first line of defense. So the Lieutenant had to utilize her other skills, and her foremost tool was her keen mind. She had an eye and ear for detail, observation, and analysis.
She tried to picture the lands he described. He must have loved them, for he had described them as home. But the picture brought to Geneva's mind wasn't that of a winter wonderland. Instead, she envisioned a frozen waste, cold and empty except for the sound of the wind. She couldn't remove the image from her mind. Perhaps she found the contrast so strange, so severe because being here was all she wanted. She remembered when she had first come here, how she thought she could spend the rest of her days within the shadow of the trees of Haven Mansion and never regret a decision like that. She'd come so far, growing into herself and finding new aspects of her personality and her life in each day. It seemed as though this place was like a salve on her soul. It could just be that Moose was in the same boat.
When Moose went on to describe the loss his mate, she bowed her head in respect for his loss. She had come to Crimson Dreams in similar circumstances, her entire world turned backward on its axis. She, too, had lost her mate and also their unborn children. There wasn't threadiness in his voice, unease or the pain of loss. The words from his mouth seemed so plain, matter-of-fact. Grief was a very personal thing, something that Geneva herself preferred to keep private. She suspected that Moose was probably much the same.
His lost admission made her cock her head to the side, her brows furrowing as she turned the words over in her head. Was he bluffing? Was he elaborating? She tried to discern his meaning. But by the way he'd said it, she felt that he had made an honest admission. He had stated those last words like facts, without any room for argument. He hadn't stated them loftily. Geneva nodded once, unsure of what to say beyond what she said next. "I will call for a leader, Moose, and you'll have your answer soon," she said, raising her head to howl for a leader.
The gray wolfess listened intently to Moose as he spoke. She concentrated on each word, not only because what he said had a lot of impact on what she'd decide to do next, but also because his brogue was so thick, she found it hard to understand him perfectly without paying careful attention. Details were important in any border interview, and Geneva would need any many details as possible. So far, this male hadn't proven himself to be a foe. He would be a threat, if he chose to. Geneva would defend these borders - and more importantly, those who lived within their sanctuary - with all the force she could muster. That didn't necessarily mean that'd be an effective first line of defense. So the Lieutenant had to utilize her other skills, and her foremost tool was her keen mind. She had an eye and ear for detail, observation, and analysis.
She tried to picture the lands he described. He must have loved them, for he had described them as home. But the picture brought to Geneva's mind wasn't that of a winter wonderland. Instead, she envisioned a frozen waste, cold and empty except for the sound of the wind. She couldn't remove the image from her mind. Perhaps she found the contrast so strange, so severe because being here was all she wanted. She remembered when she had first come here, how she thought she could spend the rest of her days within the shadow of the trees of Haven Mansion and never regret a decision like that. She'd come so far, growing into herself and finding new aspects of her personality and her life in each day. It seemed as though this place was like a salve on her soul. It could just be that Moose was in the same boat.
When Moose went on to describe the loss his mate, she bowed her head in respect for his loss. She had come to Crimson Dreams in similar circumstances, her entire world turned backward on its axis. She, too, had lost her mate and also their unborn children. There wasn't threadiness in his voice, unease or the pain of loss. The words from his mouth seemed so plain, matter-of-fact. Grief was a very personal thing, something that Geneva herself preferred to keep private. She suspected that Moose was probably much the same.
His lost admission made her cock her head to the side, her brows furrowing as she turned the words over in her head. Was he bluffing? Was he elaborating? She tried to discern his meaning. But by the way he'd said it, she felt that he had made an honest admission. He had stated those last words like facts, without any room for argument. He hadn't stated them loftily. Geneva nodded once, unsure of what to say beyond what she said next. "I will call for a leader, Moose, and you'll have your answer soon," she said, raising her head to howl for a leader.