Lips Of An Angel
07-18-2013, 06:25 AM
When Orica found the male's gaze upon her, she didn't try to look away. Most females tended to become unsettled when a man's face turned unreadable, but not Orica. Though she would've desperately liked a hint or clue as to what was running through the male's mind, she did not need to be helped along each step of a conversation. She had grown up in a pack of many stoics, her Uncle Cifer for one, and her father for a second; Orica had no doubt that Gargoyle loved and adored her, even when for hours on end, his face was set in stone. She never tried to hold anything back from her own eyes, however, they spoke of reluctance and duty and sort of sad curiosity that she couldn't help but feel towards thoughts of the future. "Go home. Go back to whatever family you have.-" Orica's ears tilted back a little. These were words that, perhaps had to be said, but didn't want to be heard. "Forget you ever met me. Forget what happened yesterday. Go back to your life..." The male's words seemed final, but other than that, Orica was left in the dark. Perhaps the male was as sad as she was to see her go... Perhaps he wanted nothing more to do with her... Perhaps- oh but what was the point of guessing. She had to go. Silently, Orica, tail and form uncurled, looking like black and white blossom, opening up to the morning sun. She rose silently and padded over to her medics bag, once more going through the awkward motions of trying to get the strange thing around her neck. She'd get better at it in time, but wolves weren't made to wear knapsacks. She shook out her neck fur as the strap slid down to rest on her little shoulders. Just like the evening before, she paused, setting her sapphires upon the grey marked male. There were no goodbyes that needed to be said. No thank you's either, for that had been taken care of earlier. There time together was running out, and there was precious little else to be said about it. The pup healer turned away. Her white paws immediately pointed out the way home - or at least the way she had come, for yesterday's run had taken quite a few turns. With her nose one way and her tail another, she might as well have been the arrow of a compass, but this compass paused, wavered and then bent to look back around. "Demyan." Orica said his name again, as quietly as she had before, but this time in more of a calling tone. "Will you forget about me?" They were a good ten yards apart now, with the dancing willow branches trailing in the space between. The morning was so hushed, that, though she never raised her voice, it could be heard clear as crystal in the pink-gold world of the dawn. |
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