To the Weast [Aurielle]
The mistake is on purpose.
04-09-2020, 04:37 PM
D O V E W H I T E
Dove didn't know if Sirius considered himself a god, and while the man most certainly considered him the calculating menace he'd proven himself to be, Dove wasn't certain if cold were accurate. Sirius had not seemed cold when he'd challenged him. He hadn't seemed cold in the midst of battle. He had not seemed cold in the chaos following. He'd seemed . . . fervent, the star-speckled man decided. Shaken and vehement, certainly. Dove, realizing he had yet to respond to the woman's words, but sensing comprehension on the far off, proverbial horizon, stayed within his thoughts for a few moments more before he turned his dome to the woman, gaze zeroing in on her companions as they spoke.
His eyes narrowed in surprise and his ears swiveled back, not pinned but apprehension clear. "They spoke," he said in surprise. His eyes swiveled between the two of them for a moment before he shook himself. "My apologies; that was uncouth of me," he said, realizing that their words likely shouldn't have been so unexpected. Wolves spoke; how unlikely had he really believed it to be that other creatures could as well?
The woman was small, smaller than Dove and small enough to make him dubious of the feline's words, but he said nothing. He hadn't seen any himself, but there could be magic about in this land; or the woman could just be well-versed in the art of battle. Dove's ear rearranged themselves to be pricked forward. "I suppose a leader like that should at least have my name in return," he sighed, recalling his manners. So lost in his thoughts he'd been, he'd allowed himself to forget them. "I am Dove," he greeted them, sitting up straighter and nodding to each in turn. "My apologies," he said again, sitting up straighter, and continuing. "My entry into this land was hardly as peaceful as I would have licked, and it seems I forgot myself."
He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.
Dove didn't know if Sirius considered himself a god, and while the man most certainly considered him the calculating menace he'd proven himself to be, Dove wasn't certain if cold were accurate. Sirius had not seemed cold when he'd challenged him. He hadn't seemed cold in the midst of battle. He had not seemed cold in the chaos following. He'd seemed . . . fervent, the star-speckled man decided. Shaken and vehement, certainly. Dove, realizing he had yet to respond to the woman's words, but sensing comprehension on the far off, proverbial horizon, stayed within his thoughts for a few moments more before he turned his dome to the woman, gaze zeroing in on her companions as they spoke.
His eyes narrowed in surprise and his ears swiveled back, not pinned but apprehension clear. "They spoke," he said in surprise. His eyes swiveled between the two of them for a moment before he shook himself. "My apologies; that was uncouth of me," he said, realizing that their words likely shouldn't have been so unexpected. Wolves spoke; how unlikely had he really believed it to be that other creatures could as well?
The woman was small, smaller than Dove and small enough to make him dubious of the feline's words, but he said nothing. He hadn't seen any himself, but there could be magic about in this land; or the woman could just be well-versed in the art of battle. Dove's ear rearranged themselves to be pricked forward. "I suppose a leader like that should at least have my name in return," he sighed, recalling his manners. So lost in his thoughts he'd been, he'd allowed himself to forget them. "I am Dove," he greeted them, sitting up straighter and nodding to each in turn. "My apologies," he said again, sitting up straighter, and continuing. "My entry into this land was hardly as peaceful as I would have licked, and it seems I forgot myself."
He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.
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