If the lamb see's the knife, she panics
He felt the presence before he saw or scented him. It was not his intention on this day to converse with any other, but what he was greeted with had him slowing down his pace. Well then, it seems fate is a very fickle mistress. Not many others were capable of such speech, and vague curiosity has Rayn tilting his silver and gold toned skull toward the stranger. His pale evergreen gaze isn't exactly void, for there is always a hint of knowing and intelligence within them. He is not a rude wolf, and so his ears harken to the strangers voice, taking in anything he might have to say. What is your name, stranger? It is normal for one to introduce themself to another, and the grey-citrine boy is not disappointed. You may call me Paldor.
Her panic seeps into the meat
Paldor. The name is foreign to him. Foreign, but interesting nonetheless. And yet all the while during this Paldor's speech, there seems to be something else going on, something lurking just beneath the surface. Rayn knows this wolf is not like any other, and yet at the same time he has no idea what makes it so. It makes him wish to find out, but he is patient. He is patient, and he is wise, and knows that the time will come when he so wishes it. As he had finally come to a full stop, he kept his steady pale gaze on Paldor's own, perhaps sizing him up or simply observing as he does. The other is lean, pale, as he is, but it is his eyes that draw the most attention. Never before had he seen a wolf with no pupil, and it is almost as if Paldor is souless. But to be souless, Rayn did not think he would have such a polite and inquisitive approach. It intrigues him, as seldom things do, and has him reiterating his reply.
Darkens it.
"You may call me Rayn, Paldor." After introducing himself, as was custom, he tries out the strangers name for himself. It's exotic as it rolls of his tongue, and vaguely amusing to him when the sound reaches his ears. Paldor has the scent of others on him, the intensity and quantity of these others giving away to the fact that he is a part of a pack. Perhaps he is enjoying time alone, perhaps he is on a mission. Rayn does not know, but he has a feeling he will find out. In expectation of perhaps a long interaction, the golden marked boy finally turns his frame to face the other, his posture relaxed though not completely so. He knows never to let your guard down completely around others. For to do so was not only foolish, but dangerous. Paldor might be smaller and leaner than him- but that did not mean anything. He might have a highly developed skill that he has no idea of, something that could, quite literally, be the death of him. The silence is stretching between them, and so he decides to break it. "What is this place?" It is a simple question, something natural to inquire. Rayn has hopes that it will also lead to further explanation, or at least more information for him to consider.
Fouls the flavour.
Strange interactions with complete strangers are expected. Expect the unexpected.
it didn't work out
you're too sensitive |