THE TANKLIKE SON OF IFRIT & EVERLYSE
[ male - six years - 31 inches, 130 pounds - no imprint - no mate - asteraia ]
Sekera was one hell of a woman, and one could argue that he would know considering that his own mother was much the same way. Subtle in most ways, but utterly and maddeningly layered in talents beneath it all. He races her, his playbow doing it’s work magnificently, and notes her grace, her speed.
Some might look and figure him a fool or too easily swayed by the beauty of a person. Some might scoff at his flirting and fawning so clearly over a woman that was much older and much finer than himself, but he does not see anything more than the angel he had spotted afield and managed to convince to come home and see the wonders she would be able to call hers if she but lived among him and his people.
And that is what Asteraia already felt like, all packs felt like. A people. A people with a creed and culture that did not align precisely with anyone elses. Asteraia was a welcoming place for all ages and talents and curses. It opened its arms much like he suspected Sekera was wont to do.
Her laughter delights him, her freedom in running their race astounds him. She is no primped old lady - she is young and vibrant and as new as if this were only her third year. He chuckles, laughing only a bit so as not to ruin her moment, and they reach the shores at last. He is perhaps panting more than a wolf of longer limb or better training would - but he was never meant for endurance in a race, much less speed he had tried to keep to keep up, so he remains unashamed.
He gulps in a breath, chuckling airily, and grunts his agreement to her sentiments about home. Her eyes glitter with it, these feelings, and he finds himself only the more smitten. So much life in one person, how could he not feel it’s call? How could he not revel in her joy in the ocean. "Down the coast, there is a den on beach. It is too high for the tide, even at high tide, within a cliff that is shaded and hidden by the dune grasses. It was the den of my Uncle before he had passed. It is yours if you would make use of it, if you wished to be near the sea."
He does not say that he would visit her, that he would invade her space and try to be a part of her days -- it is too pressured in such a way. He could not know what she felt about him and he did not trust his young heart to be able to even amuse one like her own. There was always hope, but never so much as to remove all doubt.
|
|
