Fritjof was wandering again. Not that he was unhappy, just restless. He does not know why; and for all the things he had gained there were still some things he mourned. While his childhood love had betrayed him, in an odd way he still found he loved her. Not in a 'would be happy to see her' kind of way, but in a longing for the past and what might have been. His black tipped ears lay back in reflection, rather than forward in interest. For the solace of being alone he is out here, away from the pack. Some are learning his expressions, even though he could normally mask his emotions. The winter light is almost blue in its crispness, as if lamenting with him. 'What ifs' are dangerous places for the mind to go.
Abruptly he finds himself face to face with a female. He is acutely aware she is female, made aware by her scent, more appealing than he had remembered females being. Unlike most Moladion natives she is a bit smaller than him, though her pattern is more unique than he remembers those from home having. His own mottled coloration of tans with black guard hairs and cream is so very dull by comparison. Like comparing a deer with an elk. One just lacks the majesty of the other. His ears come forward, and he almost leans forward with sudden eagerness. "Um...hi" is all he can manage though, because as his heart has started beating faster, his head has gone all empty, as if no thoughts can be stimulated while the blood is circulating at light speed. Or maybe they just can't make the journey from his brain to his mouth.
Realizing he is being quite a full he takes a deep breath and tries to relax, easing himself back from his forward stance to sit. Words still were not presenting themselves. A small problem when dealing with pesky instincts cropping up, taking away reasonable intelligence and his normal ease of speech. Some diplomat he made right now! |