03-15-2017, 04:52 PM
She’s surprised that she comes across him first, but then again they always find each other; these wild things of Beqanna. There seems to be something about her home that calls to them all and so, naturally, the two cross paths somewhat by happenstance. Somewhat because like always she is wolf: small, brown, imperceptible unless she chose to be seen. His scent had caught her immediate attention, which was quickly followed by a dangerous sense of curiosity. Strong and unbidden it drew her from the shadows of the redwood and out to where he waits, one paw deftly, smoothly, following the other as she creeps from behind the trunk of a carnelian giant. For a moment, her eyes flash reflectively and then she transforms, exhaling deeply when the shift has finished.
A blink or two, then “Hello, stranger.” falls with tepid warmth from her lips. Circinae cannot judge his worthiness by first appearances - even if she wanted to. Acceptance had never been a choice left up to her, that trial would doubtless soon come for him. Yet, he seems rather harmless in the moment - all sharp edges and dark shadows, sprinkled over with bright patches of white. His eyes, roguish and feral, excite her and a grin sweeps haphazardly across her mouth, softening the rest of her face. “Are you lost?”
“Wouldn’t that be worth a chuckle?” She muses, a single ear flicking backwards to listen for the onslaught of her peers. The smile, quickly fading, soon disappears with the gentle swing of her tail and she hopes (with biased reasoning) that she’s wrong about his sudden appearance. It would be more than refreshing to have a new face around.
A blink or two, then “Hello, stranger.” falls with tepid warmth from her lips. Circinae cannot judge his worthiness by first appearances - even if she wanted to. Acceptance had never been a choice left up to her, that trial would doubtless soon come for him. Yet, he seems rather harmless in the moment - all sharp edges and dark shadows, sprinkled over with bright patches of white. His eyes, roguish and feral, excite her and a grin sweeps haphazardly across her mouth, softening the rest of her face. “Are you lost?”
“Wouldn’t that be worth a chuckle?” She muses, a single ear flicking backwards to listen for the onslaught of her peers. The smile, quickly fading, soon disappears with the gentle swing of her tail and she hopes (with biased reasoning) that she’s wrong about his sudden appearance. It would be more than refreshing to have a new face around.
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
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