This Damn Sand.
09-16-2014, 12:01 AM
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Walk | Talk | Think She might have heard what he had to say, but she hardly seemed to react. Rather her attention remained focused on her predicament, the sands and grit from the sea that had managed to cling to her body and stubbornly refused to be washed away. It all seemed odd to the grey male as he watched the look of disdain and irritation on her face grow worse with her growled statement, apparently becoming more animated now that she had an audience to properly complain to. Inwardly, Rune sighed, wishing he had listened to that voice that had urged him to leave rather than approach the woman. What use was he going to be here without a proper way of ridding her of the sand that bothered her so? If anything, he might have already been in trouble since he had approached her with no means of assistance. Perfect. "No one else cares," he states as a means to answer her hypothetical question, quite certain that he was right. Since when did wolves who traveled on the beach care so much about the sand until after the fact? "Might want to avoid the beach from now on," he added unhelpfully, his tone low yet even. Sure, it was probably the obvious answer to any future inklings she had about returning to the beach, but for the moment his advice was entirely useless. And frankly he hardly cared. She was not one of his, would not be one of his by the scent of a pack - a pack that as of now was still unidentifiable - that clung to her, and he had no reason to go out of his way to appease her. But he could not entirely stop himself from asking, his puzzled tone possibly coming across a tiny bit condescending as he watched her freeze in some last ditch effort to save herself from further discomfort, "If you don't like the beach, why are you here?" |
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