[html] Character Name: Regan de Morte
Character Birthdate: June 18th, 2006
Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci
Species: Coyote
Gender: Female
A secondary form of contact: mercytwisted (AIM)
How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Through a link on Wild Wolf Society a while back.
It had been only last night when Regan made land on the coast with the small life boat her friends had given her off of the Pirate Ship Revenge. The ship that she had called home for almost a year of her life. She had made camp on the soft sands only to pack up and move further inland when morning came, sunny yet chilled. Her black form was a mar on the horizon as she walked steadily over meadows that turned from hills to trees. Her green dress, which had replaced her red shirt and jeans, was disheveled from sea air and from being crammed so long in her pack, and her curly black locks tried desperately to break free of a brightly colored elastic that had hard time keeping them at bay in the first place. She felt as if she was walking into a dream, green eyes unfocused as she fought between emotions of being sad at leaving behind friends and her life on the ship, or being excited for the new things to come of her life ahead. It was this dreamy behavior that caused Regan to become extremely clumsy, and almost instantaneously her foot seemed to find an upturned root of a rather mischievous oak tree, causing her to go stumbling forward, loose her grip on the large brown rucksack slung over her back, and subsequently causing its contents to scatter across the ground in a very precarious sort of way. “Merde!” Regan proclaimed quite vehemently, starting to list off more French profanity under her breath as she dropped down to her knees to start collecting her belongings off of the damp grass. She felt as if she might come to tears, the edges of her eyes glistening as she leaned back with her violin case in hand, checking to see if any damage had come to her most prized possession, or any other items she deemed very important. It seemed, so far, her first day in these new lands would prove to be an overcast one. Even the clouds seemed to think so as they gathered overhead.
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[html] He had just brought down a small hand axe to a dead limb of an oak tree when a voice had rang out through the mess of fog and forest behind him. It wasn't every day that something like that happened, although he thought offhandedly that the shouted word in question was familiar. The voice that came with it, of course, wasn't. His hand left the axe that was wedged into the tree at an angle behind and started to work his way through the clump of forestry, eyes and ears watching and listening for any other sign of just how far or close the woman was. It wasn't until he had spied a nondescript trinket standing out against the green foliage. Beyond it, was a sight that he often didn't see; a coyote that was as dark as the night itself. Bending to retrieve the stray piece, he handed it out to her when he was close enough, offering a smile as he surmised what had happened. “I think I've tripped over that just about every time I've walked through here.” [/html]
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Finally done inspecting her violin down to the last fine hair on the bow, she placed it back down inside its case and started to pile the rest of her fare around it. She was reaching for what she thought was the last thing when his hand came into sight, holding one of her many little trinkets. With a grateful smile that could put the sun to shame Regan gently took it from the strangers hand, before looking up to see who was kind enough to assist. Regan couldn't help but let a surprised expression cross her face when she looked upon the other coyote, handsome in his black outfit and odd tweed hat. “Thank-you,” came her soft, lightly french accented, reply as she straightened out to stand, nose crinkling in silent laughter at her own folly, embarrassment being rarely an issue for her. It seemed living on a boat full of men for nearly a year had cured her of that. “I'm glad I am not the only clumsy one here, though it seems I was not given the pleasure of that roots maiden trip after all.” She said, along with her own flourish of dorky comedy.
“My name is Regan,” she introduced, offering her hand to the dark and light tanned male, before looking back down at the collection of things around her with hands on hips. “I guess I better start packing it all up again,” Regan began slowly, before looking up with a quirked brow. “I wouldn't be adverse to help of course.” She then bent down and started cramming things back in her rucksack with no real order in mind, except for a gently placed hand on her violin, harmonica and tambourine.
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[html] It wasn't every day that he got to hear a French accent, but Laurel immediately picked up on it the moment that the woman opened her mouth to thank him. It was funny really, given the amount of things that were written in French so far north that so very few spoke the language and for the most part were even more accent-less than he was. He took her hand with a good shake, letting amusement span the length of his muzzle in yet another smile. “I'm Laurel,” he returned, wordlessly moving along to help her gather her things and looking them over without second thought. “Are you a musician, by any chance?” The violin she had been holding, the tambourine, they certainly weren't things that a traveller needlessly carried around just for the hell of it. At least not in his case and especially not in Nikita's case either, given the fact that she chose to lug a cello around. A banjo was a violin were much easier to carry in any travelling regard. [/html]
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Laurel, she thought, rolling his name about in her mind. It certainly sounded feminine to her, but in an odd way it suited him, and he certainly didn't appear to be very feminine at all. “Yes, I am,” Regan replied with a smile and a starry glint to her eyes that hinted toward she might go on for hours about technique, sound and musical lore if she was not stopped. “Not accomplished, and praised about like some, but I like to think I am decent. And playing an instrument is certainly calming for me.” Finally done packing up her belongings, with Laurel's help, Regan tried to brush off the dirt and grass of her now ruined, once beautifully made green dress. Not normally one to fret over clothes she couldn't help but let a hint of a frown crease her brow. The dress had been made by her mother, and was one of the very few things she still possessed from home. Not wanting to linger on memories of her family for long though Regan looked up into Laurel's eyes and grinned. “So do you live out here all on your own?” She asked, curious to know if he was part of a group or family in the area. “Some rugged huntsmen, just in the area to collect wood for your small cabin in the forest.” She imagined aloud, unable to help but picture this newly met man in plaid overalls, and a tuque, hacking away at some large, impossible tree. The thought only enhanced the laughter behind her jewel-like green eyes.
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[html] “Hardly,” he laughed. “But I'm also a musician, though the banjo is my instrument of choice. I'm just a traveller who's set up camp with some others back a bit in the forest.” Though if he were a huntsman, it would have been interesting to see what kind of different life he would have led. But it still didn't spare him from taking her shape in, intrigued by the clothing and the likeness between them already. “We have a violinist, a cellist, and a pianist too, though we lack a piano. Kind of hard to haul one around and all.” Then again, the only one of the two who had made moves to stick around was the violinist, though that was an assumption. Ahren was building something and to Laurel, that meant sticking around in his book. “What about you, travelling with any others? I can tell you're not from around here, well, neither am I, considering we're both wearing clothes. Folks around here haven't quite figured out the allure or usefulness yet.” [/html]
OMG AN INTERNET CONNECTION! *rapes reply button*
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Her smile widened as Laurel laughed, and she listened to him speak with great interest. A banjo player, a cellist, a pianist and another violinist? Oh how wonderful! “It seems as if you've got the makings of a band, not a camp.” She joked lightly. “No, I am on my own. I just came from a ship off the coast. I've been sailing for some time, but before that I was living in France with..relatives.” She couldn't bear to think of her now deceased parents, and parade of male half-siblings as family anymore. “Back home a lot of people did not wear clothes, but I lived in one of the old, restored towns. Quite a few of us did there, and when I boarded the Pirate Ship Revenge all of the crew wore something or other.” She finished with a smile, remembering nights on the ship telling stories, drinking and playing all sorts of tunes. “I guess I picked the right place to trip or I would have found myself meeting someone who thought me insane for wearing a dress in the middle of a forest. Though I guess some might still find me insane for exactly that same reason.” She chuckled, a light, happy sound that was quite contagious. “Right now though I need to start looking for a place to stay...maybe your camp might have some room for me?” It was a short, innocently played question as she looked down at her hands which were fidgeting with the waistline of her dress. More like; “House the poor and lonely?”
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*beats an admin to title you*
[html] It would have truly been more of a band than just a bunch of campers if they all played something. Or maybe they did and he just didn't know it, he supposed not everyone prided themselves in playing an instrument. “Of course, we've always got room.” With the way that people had already come and gone, there never seemed to be an absence of space or a lack of need for yet another helping hand. “I don't know how they do things over in France, but we don't have any strict kind of hierarchy here. The other places around us do though, which makes us all the more different. Some of them are too fond of coyotes either,” he told her, turning towards the rest of the forest with a gesture for her to follow. As they made their way through the thickening fog and forest, he continued to explain things. “Aside from a few musicians, we have a few people who have other skills or talents. But everyone pretty much helps everyone else out, that's how things work here. You're free to come and go as you please too, just in case you feel like packing off and travelling more.” Open borders and the whole nine yards, he thought it made them much more laid back than any where else. [/html]
*joins in on the beatings* All finished? We should have another thread soon! 
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At his reply Regan smiled brightly, looking up from her dress to fix him with her green eyes. She wasn't sure exactly what to say; a “thank-you”, or “awesome!” didn't really seem to appropriate for some reason. Instead she took in what he said about the camp, and the other places in the area. She hiked the rucksack back over her shoulder, and followed Laurel at a slow pace, managing to keep up with him just fine as she looked over at him occasionally and listened in silence. When he finished she was breathing a tad more heavily from the mornings efforts, and her exertion from walking with a heavy rucksack in tow. “Well hopefully I don't run into any coyote haters anytime soon. Other then that it all sounds wonderful, I can't wait to see the camp and meet everyone.”
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