just compost in training

Paired with an unfamiliar wolf that he was fairly certain bore... some relation to him, the godling had patiently waited for his foraging partner to join him before setting off. Keen eyes scanned the landscape, until he noticed a pattern of florals that seemed to have more clusters of different flowers in the distance. Slender paws alighting upon the lush grasses, he made his way slowly towards it. Keeping a quick pace might be rude to his foraging partner, who had much shorter legs than he, and there was a part of the mauve dappled yearling that wanted to try and make conversation. It wasn't his strong suit, and the only way to get better was to practice. "I'm afraid I don't know much about the Armada, other than the shared borders with Ashen- what rank do you hold there?" he questioned, voice soft and low as an autumn breeze. Dark tipped banner swept lightly over his hocks as he moved, hoping to keep his posture open enough that he wouldn't intimidate or put the other male off from interacting.

Mojito had seemed far from keen to join him, apprehensive even. The pale man was so striking that Pontifex knew he would remember if he had done something wrong to him. The horns marked him out as one of God's favoured, so already there was a kind of bias in the young wraith's mind towards the alabaster wolf-dog.

"talking" thinking actions