Viva la compagnie
#1
[html]
Thread Information
Date: 28 April

Setting: Sable et Rivages. Halifax, Dalhousie University

Time: Evening, around 7pm

Character Form: Optime
[/html]

[html]

*keeps on chugging* Sixth thread, then on to more! >,>


The woman laid her head on her arms which were in turn laid on the cool tabletop. She had found a little bar in Lunenburg, where she had gone to explore after visiting with the little girl near the stables. She had brought her pack this time, instead of going without as she had more often than not so far, because she fully intended to take some of the booze lining the shelves with her. For solace or for trade, did not matter, but she was leaving with a bottle or two of warming Scotch whiskey, a few of the deep red wine, and perhaps a bottle of vodka, just because its name was interesting to her.


She had not picked out her booty yet, though. Instead she was resting quite comfortably on one of the padded barstools, her dress laying over the stool to her left, pack on the counter above it to the left of her head. A slight breeze whispered in through the open door, bringing the chill evening air in to play through her long, merled fur. A sigh heaved from her chest, as not for the first time, she wondered if her father had sat in this very bar, perhaps in this very seat. Of course, this thought was followed very closely by an irritated growl. She had come here to get away from thoughts of Jacquez Trouillefou, not to think of him more.


Discombobulated, she sat up and pushed away from the bar, swiveling and getting to her feet. She walked around the end of the stained wood and moved to where she could read the labels on what alcohol was there. She selected and removed from its place a green glass bottle inscribed with Glenlivet, which she assumed was the brand, and another with clear glass that said Cragganmore instead. Yet another label read The Singleton, and the clear glass revealed a gorgeous amber liquid within. She snagged all three and nestled them down in her pack, then looked back at the wines. Decisions, decisions.


.


<style>
.desi-z91 .ooc {font-style:italic; }
.desi-z91 p {padding:0px 20px 5px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;}
.desi-z91 b {color:#c687c6; letter-spacing:-.2px;}
.desi-z91 {background-color:#eee7db; background-image:url(http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff26 ... /table.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:230px 0px 10px 0px; border:1px solid #fff; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#000; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:420px; text-align:justify; border-radius:10px; -moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px; }
.desi-z91-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto; border-radius:10px; -moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px; box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A; -moz-box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A; -webkit-box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A;}
</style>[/html]
#2
[html]

FML; my mother deleted all the tabs I had up, so I had to go reload them: one of these tabs included the nice and long post I had before she shoved me off >:/


Getting around the territory was already becoming easier for the large grey warrior as he explored, getting to know the scent markers and happy for them. Had he been alone in the wilderness, he certainly could've survived, but finding himself in an entirely new place? Oh most certainly. For whatever reason, the moon had decided not to bless Noss with the power to navigate as readily as his counterparts, if at all. Had one been looking from a completely objective point of view, they would deduce that the reason behind this would be because he would never meet anyone new or even try to do so. As was his case as he went further into a Long Gone settlement, which he had heard whispers of.


The last time Noss had been through a well-developed Long Gone city, he had discovered the oddest things and trappings; although by far the newest commodity had been alcohol. Now, Noss knew how Strel got when he was overly drunk, but he also knew that his lover had quite the penchant for the drink. Honestly, so long as Strel had a drinking buddy, Noss would not mind at all. And then the strangest thing had happened when he thought about this; he wanted to bring some home as a gift to Strel. The grey behemoth knew that Strel had abstained for awhile because he thought Noss disapproved, but Strel was a grown man, and more than entitled to his fancies. Little did he know that when he went into the decrepit ruins that a scent--that of a loner--would hit his nose. He knew this because it was fresh and not even particularly drenched in the Cour des Miracles marking, and Noss felt the fur on his hackles raise. Proceeding with caution--knowing neither the danger of the potential foe or harmless passerby--Noss followed the scent, coming upon a large and yet still intact building. Entering, he was then greeted by the sound of clinking glass and footsteps.


In a room with tables and a long bar, there was a female--young, and more dog than wolf--rattling some bottles together. With a thought he knew the bottles for his own shopping target, but he was more concerned about why she was in the pack. Clearing his throat and crossing his arms, his muscle-bulk blocking the doorway, Noss stared at the woman with pale yellow eyes, piercing her in a way that only a warrior could. His stance and posture said it all: 'Care to explain?' Granted, had it been a male, Noss would've immediately leaped into the fray, but as it was, it was a female--those of the gender that Noss had a hard time dealing with.


Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.


<style type="text/css">
.Fuego b {font-weight:normal; color:#51aa8a; letter-spacing:1px;text-shadow: #a0dfb8 1px 1px 1px;}
.Fuego-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:11px; color:#a0dfb8; text-align:center;}
.Fuego p {text-indent:15px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;}
.Fuego{margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#001926; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... Noss-1.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #205047; padding: 5px 0px 320px 0px; font-family: Tahoma, serif; font-size:12px; color:#205047; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify;}
.Fuego-border1 {width:402px; border:1px solid #001926; margin:0 auto;}
.Fuego-line1 {width:200px; border-bottom:5px dotted #51aa8a; margin:0 auto 5px auto;}
</style>[/html]
#3
[html]

=( Your post was lovely all the same. Desi goes O.O;;;;


Had she been able to do so, the young lady would have melted when she became aware of Noss' presence, perhaps a split second before he cleared his throat. As it was, her shoulders rose to about the level of her ears, and her tail curled up to nestle between her legs. Her hair stood up on end, slightly, and very slowly she turned to face the wolf who had found her in a rather compromising situation. She prayed as she turned around that the person behind her was female, and her height or shorter, but alas, that was not the case. She eyed Noss, wilting slightly under his yellow glare. He did not look pleased to have found her there, and the fact that she knew she was allowed to be there was not precisely reassuring.


The colliewolf gulped nervously, taking copious amounts of air into her system, then shook herself nervously, relaxing herself before resuming the posture she had held before. The bottles in her hand she dropped softly into her pack, an she came around the bar slowly, looking anywhere but at the ashen male in the doorway. When she got to the end, she bent slightly, glancing up at the male, and removed her knife from its sheathe attached to her leg. It would serve her no purpose if he attacked anyway, the woman was not practiced enough with the weapon for it to be of use. Perhaps he would take its removal as a good will offering. She laid it gently on the already scuffed bar, fingers grazing the rose as she withdrew, and then made herself look very small.


Very quietly, Désirée cleared her own throat, then spoke to the male, feeling uncomfortably like a pup with its hand caught in the treat jar. Hello.. Uhm. I'm Desi... I'm here with permission, I promise. She winced; why would he believe her? My daddy used to run this pack awhile back, and I came here to find out more about him. Vigilante told me I could enter the territory so I could better collect information. She motioned at the bottles in her pack. Between drowning my own sorrows and trading, I figured these could come to better use with me than here, collecting dust. She smiled and ducked her head a little lower sheepishly. She had been presumptuous, and boy did she know it now.


[/html]
#4
[html]


The reaction from the other would've been slightly more comical had Noss known her to be a part of the Court, but as it was... At least he knew her easy enough to scare, and thereby easy to get information out of. Teeth began to show from underneath his lips as she brought the knife out, and although he promptly put them away as she laid it on the table, his eyes remained hard and unwavering, waiting for some sort of attack that may or may not come. As the other woman spoke, her voice was small, but the fact that she had permission from Vigilante was...perplexing. Noss really had no way to confirm it, although he supposed that he would only have to trust those words as others in the pack had once trusted his own when he had been but a visitor. Either way, the woman did not look like much of a thread, and neither did Noss think of her as one.


"It makes no difference to me who your father was or what Vigilante decides; so long as you have permission," Noss said as he sighed gruffly, entering the bar room and strolling right up to where the tumblers and alcohol was located. Shifting some bottles around with large hands, he heard as Desi--Was that her name?--continued to speak. Picking up a bottle of clear liquid and weighing it with another bottle of amber in the other hand, Noss tried to remember which one was stronger, since he knew Strel enjoyed hard liquor. Noss drank if offered, but he had never gotten piss drunk, nor did he really know the differences between the colored liquids other than there was a clear one that made his head hurt on the first sip--Definitely hard liquor... Turning with the bottles still in his hands, Noss was begrudging to ask the question, although she had just implied that she was familiar with the stuff... "Do you know which one is stronger?" he asked, blatantly ignoring most of her speech. It seemed impossible that Noss would ever learn manners, but really, what she did was none of his concern, and he did not want to make it his. Unless she decided to join, which would end in a problem since Noss was a tad...awkward, to say the least, around females.


Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.


<style type="text/css">
.Fuego b {font-weight:normal; color:#51aa8a; letter-spacing:1px;text-shadow: #a0dfb8 1px 1px 1px;}
.Fuego-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:11px; color:#a0dfb8; text-align:center;}
.Fuego p {text-indent:15px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;}
.Fuego{margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#001926; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... Noss-1.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #205047; padding: 5px 0px 320px 0px; font-family: Tahoma, serif; font-size:12px; color:#205047; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify;}
.Fuego-border1 {width:402px; border:1px solid #001926; margin:0 auto;}
.Fuego-line1 {width:200px; border-bottom:5px dotted #51aa8a; margin:0 auto 5px auto;}
</style>[/html]
#5
[html]

ooc stuff goes here!


The woman trailed off uncertainly after her long, rambling speech. After her name and that she had had permission to enter pack lands, the man seemed to have completely disregarded that she was even speaking. In fact, somewhere between the words "use" and "dust", he had interrupted her, asking if she knew which of the liquors in his hands was the stronger one. She did not know, having never drank herself, at least not yet, but she walked to stand right next to him, her ears flicked backward as she read the labels. The one with the amber liquid appeared to be of the same kind as what she had picked up, whiskey, while the other label read "vodka" down toward the bottom.


There were numbers toward the bottom of the bottle, she noticed after awhile, and although they did not make much sense by themselves, the tiny text below brought it all into context. The amber liquid read "45% Alc/vol" while the other read "40% Alc/vol". Scanning the rest of the label, she found another set of numbers that were labeled with the same three letters, "vol", and those numbers were very similar to one another. She reached out a finger and tapped the amber liquid. This one, I think. I'm almost sure of it. If she was wrong, well... It would not be that big of a deal, right?


Glancing upward toward the man's face to gauge his reaction, Desi came to the realization she was standing very close to him, and between him and the opening at the end of the bar, to boot. She was not uncomfortable, per se, in fact she relished the warmth of standing so close to him. But in case he was, she scooted away from him about a foot or so, trying to look chagrined about it and probably failing entirely.


.


<style>
.desi-z91 .ooc {font-style:italic; }
.desi-z91 p {padding:0px 20px 5px 20px; margin:0px; text-indent:35px;}
.desi-z91 b {color:#c687c6; letter-spacing:-.2px;}
.desi-z91 {background-color:#eee7db; background-image:url(http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff26 ... /table.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding:230px 0px 10px 0px; border:1px solid #fff; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#000; letter-spacing:.4px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:16px; width:420px; text-align:justify; border-radius:10px; -moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px; }
.desi-z91-border {width:422px; border:1px solid #000000; margin:0 auto; border-radius:10px; -moz-border-radius:10px; -webkit-border-radius:10px; box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A; -moz-box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A; -webkit-box-shadow:3px 3px 4px #2A2A2A;}
</style>[/html]
#6
[html]


The woman's sudden close proximity made Noss's fur rise a little, still wary of the stranger despite her claimed right to be there. Besides the fact that she seemed to be the exact kind of female that he tended to avoid, she didn't seem to have much of a boundary issue with someone who could've easily disarmed and brought her to be judged before his king. And from there, had she not had permission at all... The girl was either fearless or foolish.


For a moment the woman stood about looking at the labels before looking about some more, testing Noss's patience with something like an opinion. Her finger finally came down on the amber liquid, which was fine enough for Noss, since he believed Strel would like any sort of gifted liquor. And who knew? Maybe he could return to the bar again for repeated gift-raiding if he ever found the need to sweeten the red-headed tailor. Desi then scooted away, making Noss raise a brow as she had the grace to look abashed at how close she had been to him in the first place. Snorting dismissively, Noss made to exit the bar--circling around the collie-wolf--before he stopped and looked back, a thought occurring to him. When he himself had been a visitor, he had almost always been next to Strel, or retained the man's scent. This one had little to no claiming scent, and she was still on their lands with only her word a guarantee of her safe passage. His nerves only wanted him to go, but duty said otherwise; make sure that she caused no trouble and keep an eye on her until things were certain. With another sigh of annoyance, Noss went to sit in a bar stool, leaning an arm against the table in a bored fashion. "Continue with what you were doing; can't just leave you yet." Quite honestly he didn't want to explain anymore than that, because really, he didn't feel like it. Why explain a duty? He was quiet enough--she could go about her business without his interruption.


Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.


<style type="text/css">
.Fuego b {font-weight:normal; color:#51aa8a; letter-spacing:1px;text-shadow: #a0dfb8 1px 1px 1px;}
.Fuego-ooc {font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:11px; color:#a0dfb8; text-align:center;}
.Fuego p {text-indent:15px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;}
.Fuego{margin:0 auto; width:400px; background-color:#001926; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v368/ ... Noss-1.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #205047; padding: 5px 0px 320px 0px; font-family: Tahoma, serif; font-size:12px; color:#205047; letter-spacing:.3px; word-spacing:.8px; line-height:12px; text-align:justify;}
.Fuego-border1 {width:402px; border:1px solid #001926; margin:0 auto;}
.Fuego-line1 {width:200px; border-bottom:5px dotted #51aa8a; margin:0 auto 5px auto;}
</style>[/html]
#7
[html]
Thread Information
Date: 30 April

Setting: Sable et Rivages. Halifax

Time: Morning, around 9am

Character Form: Optime
[/html]

[html]

<3 I'm assuming since they live together he'd still smell like Strel, let me know if you want me to change that.


He didn't believe her. Despite that she had told him the truth, the large grey-furred man chose not to believe that she truly had permission to wander the lands. Her mismatched eyes followed him as he started to leave. While she liked company and liked being around others, some part of her was happy he was going away. Something in his eyes unsettled her, even though she was in the right (or at least the neutral). But then he sat and she realized that he was not leaving after all. She turned back to and approached the shelf, her eyes rolling. It would seem more incriminating if she left, she decided, and so she went about what she had come there to do.


All the while she was perusing and selecting the various alcohols to take with her, her brain was processing the man's information, his scent and his mannerisms, the other scents that clung to his fur, and his stance, build, all the things available on the surface that made him, him, to file away for future reference. The mental secretaries filed something and then pulled it back up. A scent, one that was familiar, was heavily on his fur but was not him. It was someone she knew, had met multiple times. She spoke without turning, So, you know Strelein? He's a pretty good friend of mine. Well.. sort of anyway. She had seen him pretty recently, within two or three days prior, and he had seemed to be amiable toward her. Okay, so maybe two meetings ever didn't constitute friends, but he had taken Desi and her mother in one cold winter's night.
.


[/html]


Forum Jump: