Tall tales
Virgil
thinking "speech" "others" He walked alongside the Warlord, moving into the depths of the tall grasses under the guidance of the larger man. He was sure in his direction, despite the limp that came with the open wound weeping blood down his forelimb. “Ah, good call. Let’s dispose of the evidence first” the Warlord chuckled, breaching a clearing in the midst of the sea of grass. A stone stood in the centre of it all, bearing carvings that, as they drew closer, proved to be a list of laws. Useful and aesthetically pleasing- all points in the Warlord's favour. He'd circle back to this later, check out the details when he had a moment. A large pit bore the previous nights dead coals, ready to be lit when the sun set if necessary. He hummed thoughtfully as they passed it, examining the neatly arranged stones around the edge. Everything had taken great care to establish, which spoke volumes of the leadership. They skirted the edges of the communal spaces, and the dark goliath shouldered open a door to reveal a storage space that was well stocked with goods that lesser wolves might view as luxuries. “I think some clean water and bandages should do it.” the ivory marked man said, returning with the aforementioned accoutrements. "For the time being, certainly. I would still suggest visiting one of your healers to ensure it is properly seen to, an infection during winter doesn't seem like it would suit you all too well." he spoke the last words teasingly, reigning in his own dominant nature in favour of acquiescing to the Warlord. It would have to become a habit, if he intended to stick around. When Sirius settled the items on the ground, he wrapped some of the cloth around his paw to soak in the clean water. "Care to tell me about your pack while I work? I think I wouldn't mind to hear about where your interests lie, as the son of a soldier in a once great empire, I find myself suited to similarly aligned groups." he drawled, lifting the waterlogged cloth towards the Warlord's injured shoulder. He hesitated, waiting for the larger man to consent to a little haphazard TLC from the oaf who had torn his wound open in the first place. |
| Art by Monster |
