golden apples of the sun
04-11-2014, 02:17 PM
Shilah was only half focused on his gathering this bright autumn afternoon. His mind was a cup overflowing with thoughts to the point that the young brute was feeling truly overwhelmed. For one thing there'd been that incident with Loki at Fenrir's Maw and his incompetence right in front of his superior. On top of that he wasn't sure how the Valhallans felt about his far and wide roaming as he went about the duty of gathering herbs but he was getting the impression that it was a bit unusual. Shilah sighed again, laying down a gathering of Motherwort. It was customary for nomads to find a pack and serve it but? didn't that cancel out the name nomad? To stay in one place so? And what of the loners and rogues that had none to care for them? Shilah pawed at the plants he'd gathered as he debated softy to himself. He like Valhalla a lot and Erani was wise and wonderful and he was learning quite a bit but his spirit had been feeling somewhat dampened since joining and he wasn't sure he was really suited for pack life. Shilah also badly missed his homeland and his mother. What to do, what to do? It was then singing caught his attention. Now who was this? Snatching up his herbs he trotted in the direction of the sound to come upon a black and white brute, a handsome and unusually pelted fellow. Shilah smiled. "You have a lovely singing voice. What brings you to the Orchard, sir?" Speech |