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09-05-2015, 11:33 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-05-2015, 11:36 AM by Caleb.
Edit Reason: tag didn't work D:
)
@Sialia :D
The corporeal's horned cranium dips in respect, though she owes no respect to Caleb. The beast truly hasn't done much, nor accomplished much so far. Furthermore, he is a lower rank. Still, the gesture is appreciated. He had plans to do more, to spar more, patrol more, learn more. The beast was hungry for experience.
Sialia claims that only wolves have been seen. He assumes they've also spotted an elk or too, perhaps a few negligible animals such as hares.
A few lengths ahead, Henrietta's snout catches the scent of horse after horse. The stench of pine, sweat, and horse overwhelms the other scents, hiding them under layers of their acrid scents. A dog snort leaves her wet nose, and her brow furrows. She trudges on, upset that she can't really isolate one scent.
The black mare questions the hybrid, prodding him for more information. His cranium shakes in tired frustration, aggravated by the only answer he has to her question. "I have not seen any guards, half-assing their duties or otherwise." The blatant absence of the guards infuriated the beast. Was it hard for the imbeciles to watch a border? "In fact, you are the only other warrior I've seen since the meeting held by the General, whom also seems to be in a most unfortunate absence," Caleb muttered, somewhat bothered by the inexplicable absence of the entire fortify category.
You know what there isn't an absence of? Mares that want more than sex. Goddamn, every one of them wants love. It's thoroughly infuriating. He's thankful he can melt into the scenery of battle and fight his anger out, his confusion, frustration. The brute has fallen in love with the tactical pursuit of blood. It feels so right to fight, as if it's written in the stars for him to be a warrior, to learn and grow, to be grand.
and often times we call a
man cold when he is only sad.
thoughts
"speech."
"speech."
