03-16-2009, 11:02 PM
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300 + Geneva (:
Three days had gone by since that fateful day; Friday the thirteenth. Tsk. Foolish were those who feared that number. Once upon a time, Honoré had been one of those fools, but that wasn't the case any longer. Three days ago, his life had changed for the better and it was all thanks to the man who called himself the Patriarch. Number thirteen now officially kicked ass! The alabaster male now had a place to call his home, just the thought of it made him want to tell the whole world. Perhaps he was being a little too enthusiastic but as long as no one could read his mind, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
Honoré had been hiding out in a small cabin along the old country road, the littlest one of the bunch. It was the first one he'd come across, and although there were plenty of other cabins that seemed bigger, he'd picked that one as his home. It contained a bed and a small square table, no more no less. As long as he had somewhere to sit and write his poetry, he was a happy man. Honoré had purposely been avoiding his so-called pack mates for the first few days. He wasn't yet accustomed to the pack lands and he preferred to get settled in before meeting new faces. Fair enough, no? The Quebec native was a finicky wolf in many ways. It really wasn't like him to be so introverted; that phase would surely pass once he felt comfortable enough, which generally did not take very long.
The five-year-old male found himself sitting on the picnic table situated behind his the cottage he'd claimed as his own, bronze-colored eyes riveted towards the clear night sky. With his luck as of late, he couldn't help but wonder if a shooting star would cross his path. Now that would be the cherry on top of the cake. His gaze was glued to the firmament, completely oblivious to the world around him. There was something incredibly peaceful about stargazing.
Three days had gone by since that fateful day; Friday the thirteenth. Tsk. Foolish were those who feared that number. Once upon a time, Honoré had been one of those fools, but that wasn't the case any longer. Three days ago, his life had changed for the better and it was all thanks to the man who called himself the Patriarch. Number thirteen now officially kicked ass! The alabaster male now had a place to call his home, just the thought of it made him want to tell the whole world. Perhaps he was being a little too enthusiastic but as long as no one could read his mind, there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
Honoré had been hiding out in a small cabin along the old country road, the littlest one of the bunch. It was the first one he'd come across, and although there were plenty of other cabins that seemed bigger, he'd picked that one as his home. It contained a bed and a small square table, no more no less. As long as he had somewhere to sit and write his poetry, he was a happy man. Honoré had purposely been avoiding his so-called pack mates for the first few days. He wasn't yet accustomed to the pack lands and he preferred to get settled in before meeting new faces. Fair enough, no? The Quebec native was a finicky wolf in many ways. It really wasn't like him to be so introverted; that phase would surely pass once he felt comfortable enough, which generally did not take very long.
The five-year-old male found himself sitting on the picnic table situated behind his the cottage he'd claimed as his own, bronze-colored eyes riveted towards the clear night sky. With his luck as of late, he couldn't help but wonder if a shooting star would cross his path. Now that would be the cherry on top of the cake. His gaze was glued to the firmament, completely oblivious to the world around him. There was something incredibly peaceful about stargazing.