Show me how

he doesn't look a thing like jesus, but he talks like a gentleman

The white wolf had found herself wandering alone once again. She had never been the biggest of social butterflies, and it seemed that joining Glaciem had not changed that. The pack had been a bit of a change from her life as a loner; it was strange to find herself to be a part of this place, and yet, it seemed to fit her. It was nothing like her old home, but that was fine with Irin. Eria had ruined her old home for her.

The soft voice of another made Irin jump slightly, her ears pricking in the direction that the voice had come from. It took her a moment to process the fact that the disembodied voice had asked a question. Fish? Why fish? Why was there a ghost asking about fish? And of course, a ghost was the first thing that Irin jumped to, considering she couldn't see any other wolv--oh, there was one right there. Irin found her gaze settling on another figure, the only other wolf that seemed to be in the general vicinity, and one that was solidly flesh and blood. Boring! Irin thought to herself, but she found herself approaching the black wolf anyways.

As she made her approach, she cleared her throat daintily, and spoke carefully, "I don't think there are any places to catch fish here, but there are some in the area." With that gem, Irin fell silent, tail curling nervously in the air as she lowered her head slightly, body going into a more submissive posture. The strange males in Glaciem made her nervous, though Isardis had never had any such affects on her. He, at least, had never made her feel even slightly antsy.