A wide river dominates this section of the forest. Romance is in the air, and wolves of all ages come to search for their mate.
IP: 164.107.154.128
Posted on March 17, 2017 at 10:13:08 PM by Kahlan
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When first her consciousness returned to her, suns laid themselves upon a brute with lips drawn, standing over her. However, within moments he relaxes and instead retreats from her, his cranium lowering. As if in thought, his plume sweeps over the ground and Kahlan warily eyes him and foreign words fall from his mouth. It is a language not her own, but it is not the first time she has heard it. Before she and Henadin had originally joined Saw Tooth, they had run into brothers - two russian wolves who preferred their home’s language over the more common tongue. The fear and confusion fades from her gaze, the initially shock of coming to obviously in the middle of an interaction gone. She pauses before responding, taking the extra time to comprehend what he is saying as she goes over the strange sounds in her head. His voice, although gruff, does nothing to bother her - it is softer and smoother than her brother’s ever was. A smile graces her lips as she glances down, once more reminded with bittersweet memories of her fallen brother, and not for the first time she wonders why it is that he is recently commanding her thoughts. But she returns to the present, her smile fading a bit as she stares at the stranger. “You will have to speak slowly, Lev - I understand your language but it has been years since I have heard it… and I do not speak it at all. My name is Kahlan… can you tell me why exactly you were standing over me in such a course manner?” Her own vocals are monotone, lacking emotion and care. While waiting for him to respond, she looks over her own body for injury - there had been a few blackouts where she had awoken only to find bruises or small cuts upon her, always cleaned but never poulticed. This time, it seemed, that she had had no excited adventures or encounters during her conscious’ flight. All the same, she shakes out her pelt to loosen the silt from the shore of the river and begins to clean herself. She takes only a few moments to do so, picking free the larger pieces of debris that have muddied her coat, before glancing back up, waiting for his answer. In the moments in between, she studied him and noted his scars - one on his face, another parting the flesh of a single audette. “How interesting.” It was meant to be something unsaid - personal thoughts that had slipped between unknowing lips. Still, her vocals remain monotone but the hint of intrigue has entered them as she has found a reason to want to converse with the brute. Where had his injuries come from? |
Replies:
- Каждый демон хочет, чтобы его фунт плоти; - By Lev May 26, 2017 at 05:46:14 AM
im just a puzzle missing a few pieces - By Kahlan June 28, 2017 at 05:34:11 PM
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