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02-19-2013, 07:01 PM
for the pain and the sorrow caused by my mistakes
won't repent to a mortal whom is all to blame It hardly came as a surprise when Crowley noticed the stallion's wandering gaze, undoubtedly looking at his strange, twisting horns. They seemed to be a target of interest with almost everyone he'd ran into here in the Threshold, but the brindle had long since grown immune to the folly of others. Before Crowley could even open his mouth to give a response, a tendril of hairs cascaded over the Gypsy's eye, and he found himself hardly containing a laugh. "I'm certain you could find someone more than willing to help you by pulling it out, darling." Another moment, and the painted seemed to have shifted his attention to the young pup at his side, much to his pleasure. Crowley wasn't much into talking about hairstyles anyway. "This is Talbot," he answered, "He is a Hellhound. Curious thing, isn't he?" From his spot at Crowley's left, the pup perked his ears at the nearing muzzle of the stranger, and pushed himself to all four feet to inspect. Stepping closer, Talbot closed the distance rather bravely, sniffing away until his wet nose touched the draft's, at which point he gave a jolt and went scurrying backwards, nearly toppling over as he ran into Crowley's left foreleg. A sigh escaped the brindle's lips and he gave a shake of his head, deciding it best not to comment on the pup's lack of confidence. He would grow better in time. "If it is a home that you seek, then I extend an invitation to the lovely Aurora Basin. It is home only to those of us which are horned; a superior herd among the rest here." "blather blather blather" |
The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
