09-03-2009, 04:17 AM
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thanks to jael for the table! I steal wifey-thread. I really wanted to reply as Kae, but she is a bitch and I don't think she'd be nice. D: So I am going to bombard you with dumbness. <3
Charon was glad the weather had finally seemed to subside. After nearly drowning half to death, the big wolf was not keen on a repeat performance. Hell, he didn't know if he ever wanted to go swimming again. For now, the wolf was rather content to explore the forested lands inwards of the coast. He was quite happy to do so, though he did have to come to the occasional stream. It took him several minutes longer than usual to cross them, since he first monitored the water for a long moment before darting across as quickly as possible. He wasn't scared, no—he was almost terrified. He certainly didn't want to be swept away again, and he was lucky there had been other wolves there to save his life.
He seemed to come to drier land, for the sound of water faded behind the last creek and did not resume. He was eternally grateful, and he rolled his eyes as he almost muttered a prayer, a force of habit that he had since buried. Those books, that belief—he'd never taken to it as well as any of the rest of the Amrithai family, and he had never devoted his whole heart to God. After all, if that happened, where was the room for family? He loved his mother and his siblings very much, and in a begrudging way, he even loved his father.
Char didn't like thinking about his family, that made him miss them sometimes and he really hated that feeling. At times it seemed almost enough to drive him back to his arctic home, but he'd finally found a place he liked with other canines, and he would be damned if he would go back home before meeting as many of them as possible. If he went back at all! Maybe he would settle down here. He really wanted to be a father; meeting young miss Amata had inspired him to think about Soare. He remembered how tiny she'd been when she was just born, and he wanted hold his own kids in his paws. That was a big reason why he'd left his home—he knew so long as he lived in his father's shadow, even if some wonderful she-wolf stumbled on their tiny outpost in the tundra, he wouldn't have been permitted to breed anyway.
So engrossed was the pale silver canine in his thoughts he almost didn't realize he was walking right up onto a werewolf. He didn't so much as hesitate, continuing to walk right over to her with a bright smile on his face. "Hey!" he cried out, his usual greeting. His tail wagged and his great big smile showed across his face, not a fiber in him violent or malicious. "I'm Charon, goodtameetcha," he said, introducing himself immediately. She looked friendly—why not?
Charon was glad the weather had finally seemed to subside. After nearly drowning half to death, the big wolf was not keen on a repeat performance. Hell, he didn't know if he ever wanted to go swimming again. For now, the wolf was rather content to explore the forested lands inwards of the coast. He was quite happy to do so, though he did have to come to the occasional stream. It took him several minutes longer than usual to cross them, since he first monitored the water for a long moment before darting across as quickly as possible. He wasn't scared, no—he was almost terrified. He certainly didn't want to be swept away again, and he was lucky there had been other wolves there to save his life.
He seemed to come to drier land, for the sound of water faded behind the last creek and did not resume. He was eternally grateful, and he rolled his eyes as he almost muttered a prayer, a force of habit that he had since buried. Those books, that belief—he'd never taken to it as well as any of the rest of the Amrithai family, and he had never devoted his whole heart to God. After all, if that happened, where was the room for family? He loved his mother and his siblings very much, and in a begrudging way, he even loved his father.
Char didn't like thinking about his family, that made him miss them sometimes and he really hated that feeling. At times it seemed almost enough to drive him back to his arctic home, but he'd finally found a place he liked with other canines, and he would be damned if he would go back home before meeting as many of them as possible. If he went back at all! Maybe he would settle down here. He really wanted to be a father; meeting young miss Amata had inspired him to think about Soare. He remembered how tiny she'd been when she was just born, and he wanted hold his own kids in his paws. That was a big reason why he'd left his home—he knew so long as he lived in his father's shadow, even if some wonderful she-wolf stumbled on their tiny outpost in the tundra, he wouldn't have been permitted to breed anyway.
So engrossed was the pale silver canine in his thoughts he almost didn't realize he was walking right up onto a werewolf. He didn't so much as hesitate, continuing to walk right over to her with a bright smile on his face. "Hey!" he cried out, his usual greeting. His tail wagged and his great big smile showed across his face, not a fiber in him violent or malicious. "I'm Charon, goodtameetcha," he said, introducing himself immediately. She looked friendly—why not?