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Aplos Riverside

Moladion’s powerful, winding river...
Aplos River is a broad, slow-moving river originating from somewhere beneath the mountains of Spirane and feeding Iromar’s moors in the south. The northern parts of the river are known for their strong currents, with the water becoming slow moving in the south. The riverbanks vary along its course, ranging from soft hummock grasses to small groups of pine, and sometimes nothing but pebbles and sand. Crossing can be difficult at times, but it can be swam or bridged by fallen trees or boulders alike.

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"Of Thunder and Lightening
IP: 68.119.220.228

The Drums Beat to my Thunder
Female : 6 : Unbound : Unloved: Spirane

The clear crisp words made their way quite quickly to her perked radars and a moment is given as she considered if she should respond. The voice and accompanying scent were most definitely of the male persuasion which could mean any number of things considering the season. Yet unlike most she did not care about the heat that ravaged the hormones of others, she cared about her coat and how she would not be able to properly care for it due to the bitter bite of the river. Then again he had called her lady, he had recognized her worth and her beauty so who would she be if she did not at least acknowledge the wise one? Lifting her delicate crown she allowed her pale optics to grace his visage, only widening slightly at his gruff appearance.

"I am afraid that I am not alone for you are here." Her gaze sweeps the immediate area as if to drive home the fact that if she were indeed alone then he would not be here speaking to her before settling on his face. A massive scar marred his features in a prominent display of violence. He also sported dual hued eyes, one of darkness and the other an intelligent emerald. She could not put her paw on his age yet she knew he was older than she. What was an elder doing out in this temperatures? "Why indeed everything of this day is terrible. I can not bathe. How can you suffer my less than acceptable appearance?!" Her words are a huff as she glares at the river. How dare it be so cold.

Shifting slightly she eyes the male as he in turn eyes her. He was not a dashing warrior, that much was painfully obvious. His stature much too short. Perhaps a diplomat then? Or spy! "Hmm it may seem scandalous but yes you could join me. Could you groom the back of my ruff? I can never get it just right." Instantly she turns her back to him, misreading his offered aid in company. He surely did not want to help her groom herself yet she purposely thrust him into the situation anyway. He had offered, and she wanted to be clean. "My name is Jakuta. You are?"



Jakuta
dante




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