miracles will happen as we dream;

[Honoré Bélanger]

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:3 End soon m'love?

Her words actually made sense. Honoré hadn’t expected such an eloquent explanation; his pack mate had described everything so beautifully, it left him breathless. Specific words she’d used, like “security” and “grace”, reverberated through his mind. He too, wanted to know what love felt like. Hazel-colored eyes were glued to her, registering every single expression to cross her face. It was only when she granted him a soft apologetic smile that he realized how he’d been staring her down, wide-eyed and agape.

What she last said about needing to be in control struck him as odd. He frowned a little then, mostly to himself, as he attempted to understand the reasoning behind her words. She’d been hurt, that much was obvious. Although she was quite good at camouflaging the pain, that last statement had made it obvious. “I’m sorry mam’zelle.” he offered, mostly apologizing for the pain and heartache she had experienced.


He probably would’ve given her a hug if only he hadn’t felt so awkward. Instead, he brought a paw up to clumsily pat her on the back. It seemed like an appropriate thing to do, although he was well aware that it wouldn’t make her problems go away.

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[Geneva Stockholm]

[Why not here? Had a great time doing this - let's have another sometime!]

Geneva shrugged, smiled ruefully as the cream colored male expressed his sympathy, or empathy. For a moment, she didn't reallty know how to interpret his tone. She wasn't one to bare herself to others. She hated to make herself vulnerable. But Honore seemed safe, a soul that echoed her own. She normally watched the reactions of others with the focus o a hawk, but there was something about this male that caught her off-guardc, and eased the walls she held tight around her heart. She hadn't divulged anything concrete or too personal, but she felt as though she had anyway.

Geneva ran her fingers over the grain of wood on the table. It was somewhat rough and uneven in places, deceptive as the tabletop looked smooth otherwise. She looked down at the wood grain and pondered its pattern, more uniform than the canopy of stars above them both. Sighing, she rolled her shoulders, as if to dispell stress. She then returned her lime colored gaze to the cream colored male.

The smile she wore this time was genuine. She was glad to have met him, and felt lucky to have another kindred spirit in the pack. It was easy to relate to this poetic soul, and she felt relieved. While she valued the differences in others, she found that having a friend of similar temperament and interests was quite a treasure. "It is getting late," she said, looking back at the stars. She rose from her seat and curled her fingers into looose fists, gathering warmth into her hands. "I'm glad I met you, monsieur," she said, her tongue slipping clumsily over the word. "I hope to see you again soon."