[html] Until now her beds had been woven of softer tussocks and sweet grasses, perhaps some root-tangle or maybe a mattress, if she longed for luxury. Such were wanderer’s mainstays, the sort of comforts that could be extracted for any and all nooks. Staying her feet, although it incurred odd backbone-itches, had called up specific pleasures she never thought she’d sample again, such as an attatchment to a place. Not merely to her brume and wold world, Clouded Tears, but to a corner of it – her den, a place pocked with another’s touches yet now furnished with some of her own.
Luz laughed; though what was the butt of the joke, even she couldn’t quite recall. Her spirits sunk and soared by the hour. Now, lolling among her pillows, a leather-bound book at her side, all portents indicated a definite high. Reading had ever been a talent of hers; however, though she named herself literate, she didn’t share that bookworm enthusiasm that so many found amongst tatty pages, worn covers, fading type. Outside, as seen through a door that doubled as a window, snow was falling gently – the negligible style that revealed itself as white-walls and icy paths in the morning. It was no concern of hers. The herbs that had been hanging by twine-knots since late November had garnered a diamond crust, yet still managed to shake with the worst winds. Little matter. Too cozy to care in her home (ah, who could have fancied she’d use that word without real sourness?), Luz turned page-leaves, eyed illustrations with critical entertainment, made soft amused noises. | |
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----- I am so sorry about this wait. Please forgive me? :/
----- Maria found herself walking around Clouded Tears in order to get a better feel of the place. It was nice and had it's own unique beauty to it that sometimes would remind her of Italy even she looked at it just right. The black female couldn't figure out what made her think of Italy, but maybe because it was just her and her son and no one else she knew was around. Sure, she had met one or two others wolves that she might call her friends, but no one she could run to and express her feelings if she needed. Not because she didn't know them or trust them very well, but instead of their language barrier. They didn't understand much, if any, of her language, and she could barely pick up bits and pieces of English.
----- In a short distance, Maria heard a sound that was familiar: a laugh. Maybe not one that she had been doing lately, but one of someone else she knew. It wasn't of her son since it seemed too high pitched to be her child's voice but it made her curiosity spike. "Alo?" she called out, head craning forward to see if she could see an opening to a den. Eyes wide as her hands rolled over the sides of her arms to fire heat to keep warm while she waited. Her voice was cracked as she called out in a difficult version of "hello." A sigh escaped as she stepped back and took a few steps in another direction, only to find herself facing the hole of a den that the laughter might have come from.
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[html] Nothing to forgive, lovey! Don't even worry about it. ^^ __________________________________________
A voice in the distance, like a gunshot in earlier days, in a different empire. Rather than gathering up her own shotgun for personal protection, she set down her book, amusement-residue concentrated about the eyes and lips, and prepared an eyebrow for raising. “Hello?” she answered back, though the situation hadn’t yet demanded abandoning her makeshift bed. Luz hissed at even the slightest shift in this cold weather, for it left the newly exposed skin hissing with warmth-departure, and odd feelings of friction if some stray patch of hair was pressed against its grain. Thus are sloth’s tribulations
Yet despite these sensations begging for stillness, she still closed the book and slid it inches away, newly resting on her elbows. “Anyone there?” she asked, perceiving a darkness against the rest of the door’s outline – yet it could have been anything at all. An entirely unfamiliar feeling twinged at her neck. The original owner, perhaps, back to reclaim its rightful home? Someone to uproot her from her comforts? The dagger, hanging from a root against the back wall, offered some small comfort in this respect. Allayed by the thought that invasion could yet be thwarted – if this was indeed invasion – the astronomer tilted her head backwards, chin raised, slight darkness igniting along facial corners. | |
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