Whose bed have your boots been under?

N/A · 03-11-2013, 09:09 AM

Mind wandered to the possibilities. The girl, Epiphron, represented everything that was unknown in his world. She was a girl - that was perhaps the most unknown - she was from another pack. His father always handled the diplomatic issues when it came to the other packs. He'd never even so much as been allowed to see a member of another pack. Much less encounter one solo. Still, his parents couldn't shelter him forever, that truth was proven by the fact that he was standing here dripping wet in a ravine with a pretty girl. What more could the boy ask for? The devilish smirk would remain on his features as she spoke, saying she recalled hearing of his pack. They were small, but rather up-and-coming, Maverick knew that sooner or later they'd be as big as that Valhalla he'd heard so much about, then, much to his surprise - which was evident on his mask - the girl said she was of Valhallan descent, the blood of Cairo, no less! His father had spoken of Cairo, who had also fathered the young heir, Syrinx. Apparrently father had met Syrinx while wandering in the battlefield. So that was her brother, then. Who was the Alpha? Another brother of hers? Maverick vaguely recalled a name, but couldn't get it off of the tip of his salmon tongue. "I've heard of Valhalla," As she circled him, he allowed himself to be scrutinized, which he was certain she was doing. The smirk remained plastered there as his head dropped to the surface of the running water. Drought after drought would be taken before he lifted again.

Following her line of sight, eyes fell upon the walls of the ravine, which appeared much more treacherous now than they had when he'd descended. "I really didn't think this through," he muttered as he surveyed their predicament. If he fell again he would prove himself a bumbling fool, something he was far from. So what was the solution? Was he not also obligated to get her out safely as well? Wasn't that the chivalrous thing to do? Certainly it would gain him points in her book, points that might somehow raise him above whatever Valhallan prince who sought to steal her away. Yes, getting her out could only help him. But how? Eyes would rove over the crevasse, looking for the easiest and safest route up. The walls of the ravine were stair-stepped, but many of those steps were crumbling, or barely existent. The way he'd come down had crumbled beneath him, and having the girl fall the same way would certainly make him look like a fool.

But he tried to stop worrying about their ascent and focus more on just being with her. Her company was far preferred to almost anyone else he'd been around in his short but interesting life. He wondered briefly what his father would think of her. Both of them, his adoptive father and his biological father. He would never know what Rancor thought of her, or of his firstborn son. An ear flicked back at this thought, but quickly returned to its original position. Head turned from the walls of the ravine to her elegant face. "What's it like in Valhalla?" Curiosity painted across his face as he waited patiently for her reply.

Speech,

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