10-28-2009, 07:44 AM
[html]Table thanks to James. [/html]
This post = bad. DD:
Charon had been born into a family, not a pack. Maybe if the Amrithai were a tribe instead of a family, he'd have stayed—but seeing the same faces of his siblings and parents day-in and day-out had tired him, and he wanted more from the world, like this place. He was so excited to be here with his young friend, in her home. "Thank you very much for showing me around," the silvery wolf said politely, not knowing any of the other names she listed. He knew Kansas, that was all. Still, the rest of her family had to be pretty awesome if she was so notice and Kansas had saved his rear end.
He shook his head firmly. "Nope, never!" he asserted. "Let's go," he said, eager to see this great place where she lived—maybe he'd even get to meet the rest of her family? The pale young wolf turned around, clearly appreciative and already well-aware that she was a princess. The ash-furred wolf smiled broadly at that and nodded enthusiastically in agreement with her. "We'll have to find you a crown," he said, grinning and trotting quickly to keep up with her fast puppy pace.
Charon liked children simply for what they were, but he also enjoyed their company because they did not judge or question him. He'd been called stupid plenty of times in his life, but Miss Amata—Princess Amata, he reminded himself—would never do such a mean thing to him. As they traveled, the wolf looked to the massive house as it grew larger and larger, growing more impressed with its size as they drew more and more near to it. The werewolf trotted up the porch behind her, peering around at the quaint view of the front yard, breathing out a sigh. What a nice place! He could totally settle down right here. The youth asked him a favor, and immediately the male jumped to action, jiggling open the door and holding it open with an extra-large flourish, ending in a bow down to just about her level, his hand extended toward the interior of the house. It was a ridiculous, extravagant pose, but he held it with a dignified look on his face, speaking in his stiffest, most formal manner. "Presenting Miss Fish Cool Pretty Princess Amata," he said, deciding it sounded the best to use her whole, full title—even if he didn't know her last name.
Charon had been born into a family, not a pack. Maybe if the Amrithai were a tribe instead of a family, he'd have stayed—but seeing the same faces of his siblings and parents day-in and day-out had tired him, and he wanted more from the world, like this place. He was so excited to be here with his young friend, in her home. "Thank you very much for showing me around," the silvery wolf said politely, not knowing any of the other names she listed. He knew Kansas, that was all. Still, the rest of her family had to be pretty awesome if she was so notice and Kansas had saved his rear end.
He shook his head firmly. "Nope, never!" he asserted. "Let's go," he said, eager to see this great place where she lived—maybe he'd even get to meet the rest of her family? The pale young wolf turned around, clearly appreciative and already well-aware that she was a princess. The ash-furred wolf smiled broadly at that and nodded enthusiastically in agreement with her. "We'll have to find you a crown," he said, grinning and trotting quickly to keep up with her fast puppy pace.
Charon liked children simply for what they were, but he also enjoyed their company because they did not judge or question him. He'd been called stupid plenty of times in his life, but Miss Amata—Princess Amata, he reminded himself—would never do such a mean thing to him. As they traveled, the wolf looked to the massive house as it grew larger and larger, growing more impressed with its size as they drew more and more near to it. The werewolf trotted up the porch behind her, peering around at the quaint view of the front yard, breathing out a sigh. What a nice place! He could totally settle down right here. The youth asked him a favor, and immediately the male jumped to action, jiggling open the door and holding it open with an extra-large flourish, ending in a bow down to just about her level, his hand extended toward the interior of the house. It was a ridiculous, extravagant pose, but he held it with a dignified look on his face, speaking in his stiffest, most formal manner. "Presenting Miss Fish Cool Pretty Princess Amata," he said, deciding it sounded the best to use her whole, full title—even if he didn't know her last name.