Homesteading is for Suckers
08-20-2015, 07:30 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-20-2015, 07:30 AM by Irie.)
the ancient oaks
That scent. She knew it; she was intimately familiar with it. It was the scent of an old friend, fresh and strong, one that had been eluding her for days. It wouldn't elude her now, not that the owner of this scent would want it to in the first place. She bounded forward, being met with the wonderful site of pink and purple and blue and gold and multi-colored eyes and she died of happiness inside. She paused for only a second, to toss her head back and howl: it was a summoning howl for her sister, and for any other Diamáchi; the tone was joyful, and any who heard it would know that it meant a friend returning.
Then the wiggling brown ball of fur was on Mithras, bouncing around, happy whines spilling from her maw - she was incapable of speech, so excited she was - as she ignored Tally and the new wolf. Her tail was a blur as she delivered licks to Mithras' shoulder, neck, everywhere. Ooh, Lyre would be so happy! Mithras was a dear friend of hers, but an even closer friend of Lyre's - and secretly, Irie encouraged a relationship between them. Mithras was a good wolf, who worked with Lyre's gentle spirit.
She bounced back after her initial excitement and wiggliness had dissipated, but her blue eyes still danced mischievously and sparkled with delight. She flopped down next to him, tail hitting the ground softly in a repetitive sound and pattern, grinning at Tally, and then sobering up as she re-noticed the red wolf. Surprise didn't even register in her eyes at the abnormal color of the wolf; how could you be moved by it after spending time with Mithras? It was a beautiful color, nevertheless, but alas, it was worn by one who seemed lost.
Her head tilted at the male. She would not trust him, no, but maybe she could help him. Maybe he would see the truth in the Diamáchi ways once explained, and he would find a home among like-minded folk.