The Mourning Bells Are Ringing
04-01-2015, 07:13 PM
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Korr
'I've come to bring fire to your kingdom; I've come to burn it down.'
To hear the words of the Old Tongue fall from lips of strangers was, to Korr, one of the most cherished things he could hear. That she walked with the air of a queen as he did of a king was, as most would say, the icing on the cake. This wolf had the beginnings of the black's respect, the faint threads of acknowledgement of their equal status in this world. He watched her(and their path) as she said her name, and a grunt of acceptance slipped out of him. Wisely she did not meet his gaze, honestly Korr did not want this stroll to lead towards a dominance display. He was raised in ways considered, perhaps, barbaric by some. Commonplace by others. To him it was a sign of respect to not meet his gaze, and in respect to Surreal he did not meet hers. They were, so far, equals. Her question somewhat shattered his illusion of her, however. He had thought that perhaps the female had hailed from the same lands as he; it was not so. "Thiocfaidh mé ó thuaidh ... Ó áit go bhfuil aon ainm." He both answered her question and did not, for his attention was snagged by the hitch that had suddenly struck the dame at the mention of her mother. How curious... was she deceased, then? Korr felt nothing about the death of his own parents; their souls were gone, nothing but flesh remained, and all things died. So why mourn? He actually couldn't wrap his mind around the process of 'mourning' something. He remained silent, pausing his step until Surreal would continue to walk. "Cad de tú? Buille faoi thuairim mé nach bhfuil tú ó mo talún." "Common Speech" ont color="#F2F2F2" style="font-size:14px;">"Irish Speak." |
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