[Joining] "Rope Een"

[Kyermë]

Character Name: Kyermë
Character Birthdate (including year): 7/18/07
Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci (not applicable to non-canines): Luperci
Species (not applicable to canines): N/A
Gender: Male
Your e-mail: ilnimare@gmail.com">silnimare@gmail.com
A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M): N/A
How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Affiliate link.
Initial post:

Does quantity diminish quality? Can a multitude destroy the image? Some would say so, but when you turn such questions to the stars, all must admit their beauty and gaze in wonder. The day glows with the warmth and light of the sun, a single ray of hope to guide the paths. But the night has a thousand eyes, each looking on the world with favor, glistening like jewels. Some study them, some observe them, and some, whether from inebriety or soberness, worship them.

“Disya… it’a be fit ‘n frock. A stars be lightin’ a eart’ a’ight.”

Odd words from an odd creature, it would seem. The one speaking such was a Luperci, brown-furred with white tips near the head. He was in the half-form, moving at the equivalent of a jog. Despite his purposeful stride, he wasn’t really interested in where he was going, as long as it led away from the coast.

He saw a dense wood ahead, and made for that direction. He had heard of a pack that dwelt within, a pack with which he might find solace and forgetting. He entered the fringe of the wood, and let out a long howl, signaling his approach. He stayed near the edge, so that if the welcome wasn’t so friendly, he could flee more quickly.

Trying to remember his manners, he lowered his head, ears at the side, though, whether out of disrespect or forgetfulness, he curled his tail close, not tucking it. He was willing to submit, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down.

[[OOC: It's not near my best, but it's been a while since I've written.]]

[Laurel Booth]

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If it were one thing that Laurel seemed to almost always do, it was to keep the camp fire going constantly. Whether it was obtaining more wood or keeping the fire going, he did it purely out of habit. Maybe it was a comforting kind of signal, maybe it was a sign that someone was always hanging around what was now quickly home for some. With those who were sick slowly acting like they were getting better, it was easier to fall back into doing that particular chore without thought. But he hated routine and routine just happened to be the very thing he found himself stuck in. At least it was, until a rather unfamiliar howl caught his attention.



It was uncommon, but overly welcome. Generally Laurel didn't know when anyone was hanging around the borders because they never made a sound. They either sat there or went around the borders a hundred times before someone found them. He didn't hesitate on leaving the camp site behind and heading out in the direction of the call, weaving and bobbing carefully and smoothly through the thick forest and fog. Out along the forest where the trees started to thin out, the slender coyote caught sight of the fellow who had howled and gave him a wave as he approached. Wiping a hand absently on his dark pants, a grin spread itself easily along the length of his muzzle as he spoke. “Nice to see someone around here isn't afraid to call for attention. What brings you out to these neck of the woods?”

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[Kyermë]

It would seem that Kyermë’s fears were unfounded, for the only one to approach him at the wood’s edge was a rather casual-seeming optime, fully dressed. The casual tone in the other’s voice gave Kyermë courage enough to lift an eye to glance. Ee be odd, but ee a boss-man. Kyermë thought to himself. He never could understand the concept of human clothes being worn. After all, wasn’t that what their fur was for? Still, when in another’s den, his rules. After taking a pause, so as to not seem rude, Kyermë answered him.

“I’a no be lookin a trouble, sa. Mi no a ‘at steppah, no. Jus’ inna crosses, see? Deh shore anna watta be mi yaad. Got a box’n wit’ sum’ady der. A stars tell mi a run, take ten toe turbo a ‘ere. I be not searching foh’a lonah’s way. Mi bruddas boot I, a so I look’a new bruddas. See it?”

As he spoke, he smiled in a cordial way. Given that his right side was facing the other luperci, it showed his missing lower canine, evidence of his struggle he mentioned. While his speech may have been disorienting to some, the gist was simple: I’m alone, and I need a pack.

[[OOC: It's not bad spelling, just his accent. Sorry for the trouble.]]

[Laurel Booth]

Not a problem. Hope the shortness is okay here too, I tend to try and make these kind of things short and sweet. *eager dance*

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His accent was a muddied sort, but nothing that Laurel couldn't grasp. He gave the wolf a good once-over as he spoke, taking in his various markings and the tattoo to keep in his memory. Just from first glance alone he deduced that trouble was probably the last thing that a stranger in a strange place would have been looking for, but stranger things had certainly happened since he had first set foot there. “Well, if it's a place you're looking for, we've got room here. There really isn't a reason to be submissive around here either, we lack a strict hierarchy and may as well be equal to one another. Everyone takes care of everyone here, we've all got our part,” he explained, simply cutting to the chase and not delving back into any more of a personal story. “So what can you do to pull your weight here? And I guess a name would be helpful too. I'm Laurel.” Surely an interesting accent meant an interesting name, he reckoned.

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