Apricot Sunset And Cinnamon Skies
Snow or Winter
12-17-2019, 11:19 PM
The little girl spoke, introducing herself as Winter. She was the daughter of Acere, the king that Avalon had sought to follow and the man who gave him refuge. She mentioned her mother too, her tone and shifting on her paws enough to tell the old wolf that her mother’s disappearance bothered her. He hummed softly before he spoke.
“I met your dad once, a while before I joined this pack. There was a tournament held at the end of winter one year, before my sight completely left me.” Felicien spoke calmly, his french accent an undertone. “He was one of the wolves I was paired to spar against. I was impressed by his strength.” Feli confessed. “The only man I ever willing came to stand under as a pack member either if that tells you anything.” He smiled ever so slightly, still set in his ways to guard his emotions more. A touch easier, he supposed, since his eyes no longer reflected what he felt. No, the milky film brought on by age helped shield them from revealing anything.
“Must mean there are great things coming for you too, Winter.”
He shifted a little.
“I am afraid I have never met your mother… but I know that we can live good, long lives. You may very well cross paths with her again someday. It may not be this year, or even the next, but one never knows who they will see again or what path they will walk throughout life.” Feli shook his head. “I speak from personal experience, mon petit ami.”
Then she turned the tables and began to shift the attention on him.
“Felicien Desrosiers,” He spoke with a touch of pride. “I am a newer addition to Winterfell. I came here to stay with Avalon when the volcano erupted. I’m glad that I’m here. Packs always seemed “odd” when I was younger. To put it simply.” No need to trouble her with all the complex nonsense.
“Ahh…” He smiled a bit more noticeably now.
“Non, Winter, it is not. It is a language called French. It is the language my mother spoke primarily and, as a result, I learned it myself. I slip into it sometimes as a force of habit… or maybe to remember her. Merci beaucoup, jeune fille… In common tongue it means thank you very much, young one.”
{{Ooc:: Lets ignore the technical incorrect translation there cause I’m not sure why I have it translating to “Thank you very much, young girl”. x’D Shhh.}}
“I met your dad once, a while before I joined this pack. There was a tournament held at the end of winter one year, before my sight completely left me.” Felicien spoke calmly, his french accent an undertone. “He was one of the wolves I was paired to spar against. I was impressed by his strength.” Feli confessed. “The only man I ever willing came to stand under as a pack member either if that tells you anything.” He smiled ever so slightly, still set in his ways to guard his emotions more. A touch easier, he supposed, since his eyes no longer reflected what he felt. No, the milky film brought on by age helped shield them from revealing anything.
“Must mean there are great things coming for you too, Winter.”
He shifted a little.
“I am afraid I have never met your mother… but I know that we can live good, long lives. You may very well cross paths with her again someday. It may not be this year, or even the next, but one never knows who they will see again or what path they will walk throughout life.” Feli shook his head. “I speak from personal experience, mon petit ami.”
Then she turned the tables and began to shift the attention on him.
“Felicien Desrosiers,” He spoke with a touch of pride. “I am a newer addition to Winterfell. I came here to stay with Avalon when the volcano erupted. I’m glad that I’m here. Packs always seemed “odd” when I was younger. To put it simply.” No need to trouble her with all the complex nonsense.
“Ahh…” He smiled a bit more noticeably now.
“Non, Winter, it is not. It is a language called French. It is the language my mother spoke primarily and, as a result, I learned it myself. I slip into it sometimes as a force of habit… or maybe to remember her. Merci beaucoup, jeune fille… In common tongue it means thank you very much, young one.”
{{Ooc:: Lets ignore the technical incorrect translation there cause I’m not sure why I have it translating to “Thank you very much, young girl”. x’D Shhh.}}