CHANCES TO MOVE MOUNTAINS
08-17-2013, 03:05 AM
Walk | "Talk" | Think A lazy sort of contentment had settled over the black striped wolf since the first meeting called together by the silver-eyed Imperial who had reclaimed Tortuga. With it came a sense of belonging, a pull and call toward a greater good that was just as much outside of himself as it was within. It was something he could gravitate toward, and recent events had only solidified these views. He had found them, his immediate family. His Aunt Vi he had always known to be within the borders of Tortuga along with him, distant and always at Morphine's beck and call, but for the longest time he had gone around unknowing of the whereabouts of his father, mother, and siblings. The loss of the pitch she-wolf who had birthed him still stung, the additional losses of his family as they moved off, separating into different corners of the world, just as trying on the still young boy, but it had only been an excuse to throw himself more wholly into his work. Although he wondered if it could truly have been called work. Having signed himself up to venture outside of the Tortugan territory - his designated comfort zone - into foreign occupied lands, Rune had begun trying to work on his speech. He could, when necessary, carry on a conversation, but he was considerably poor at it, lacking the tact that might cause someone to reveal more than they should have or the wit to win someone over and draw them into a false sense of comfort. If anything, his patterns were simple, straightforward, carrying weight but no flare that seemed to be a commonality among many charismatic leaders. No, he was more suited toward being the quiet muscle, there to offer support and guidance when absolutely necessary. But a silent sentry was not what the pack needed now. They needed a voice, a capable one, to represent them and bring them back the most accurate data they could on the kingdoms that reigned around them. And so he was trying to adapt. His way of adapting had been to start talking to himself, at first absently but with a growing comfortableness. It was so out of character for him, however, that the act itself embarrassed him, and so he had taken to doing so well out of earshot of those few others who roamed the territory, turning his speech practice sessions into a well-guarded secret. He wandered now, black dipped paws creeping silently through the familiar vegetation along a usually forgotten edge of the pack's land, thoughts muttered aloud to himself. "Should be leaving soon," he intoned quietly, "the sooner the better. Lots of ground to cover. Hopefully everyone can go." Frosty blue eyes glancing idly at the ground that he tread upon, Rune spoke of the impending visits to the surrounding packs, the most interesting and foreboding endeavor that currently loomed ahead in his horizon. Stern expression darkening slightly as he frowned, the young male hoped that things would go well for the pack; they had been through enough rough times recently. No more were needed. But all thoughts temporarily ceased the moment he caught the scent of the Imperial woman as she traveled his way, his muttered words dying on his tongue. The dull grey male stopped, straightened, pale eyes staring out of his stoic face expectantly searching the treeline in anticipation of the lady's approach. With time, he eventually saw her, a ghostly wraith who slipped silently through the trees and meandered about with effortless purpose. As a pup he had been somewhat dazzled by her natural beauty though he might not ever had shown it, and even with age some of it still lingered. But he knew better than to let it deter him from his task. Whether she had noticed him or not, Rune already began lowering his head, respectfully awarding the higher ranking female with a physical show of acknowledgment to her superior status. It was only as she neared that he spoke, and only a single word meant with cordial greeting, "Morphine." |
