Thanks for starting Kira! <3 Hover over the German for translations.

It seemed, as of late, that large portions of Kasimir’s time was spent within the Clandestine Brook, even though he could not, particularly, pin point the initial cause of this. It wasn’t, he reasoned, as if he felt some sort of attachment to the specific area. In fact, this was almost the opposite. He was not overly fond of the humidity that he often felt, twining through silver and raven black guard hairs like unwelcome fingers, causing said tendrils to curl along the curve of his spine. Curling was better than frizzing, but Kasimir was used to cold summers and frigid winters and the humidity of the Brook, accompanied by the almost disgusting sucking noise the muck made as he walked through it, he could validly say that: No, he wasn’t impressed by this Brook. Yet, the Northerner found himself here again and again, despite this. He was sure to never stray too far from the Trail’s borders, but it had been weeks and still, many that he had failed to introduce himself too. He was around enough to know that he was still with them -- he had promised his loyalty to the one called Shade Slayer, after all and loyalty was an iron clad contract among his people -- but not nearly enough for him to be considered well known. Though Kasimir craved friendly conversations, he was also, contradicting, ok with being an enigma. Discovering that his English was not nearly as good as he had thought it had been when he was still a part of the Cold North had been a rather low and painful blow to his self-esteem (see: ego). He had heard the way in which Shade and the little few others he had met - though not of his own design - formed their elegantly forming language and his stumbling and embarrassing inability to mimic their languid speech patterns and sentence structures. More than his own embarrassment it was the expectation of being mocked that also kept him keeping to his lonesome. Mockery was all that Kasimir had learned to expect; though in the Cold North it was because he was not as burly or as tall as the other males that had been the super nova in which the teasing had orbited. He loved them still, yet had also left in part, because of them.

Kasimir’s life and reasoning had never ceased to be complex, and it seemed this trend had no intentions of ending simply because he called new lands home and new wolves - however loose the term - family. It was not swiftly that he moved through the muck, unable to help the contortions of disgust that twisted his muzzle as he wadded through it, the murky waters splashing up his legs and coating the fur of his belly in the sticky mud. Turquoise eyes had been trained upon his slippery path as he moved through the brook itself, not paying much to any attention to the bank that had, seemingly, in his lack of expanded attention, sprung up out of nowhere. A scent tickled his nose, out of place in this territory, similar to his own except different for it carried the scent that Kasimir uniquely associated with the female gender. Kasimir stopped abruptly in his path, contemplating the puzzling scent as turquoise eyes rose to take in the white beauty atop the bank.

Though he recognized her as one of Pitch Pine Trail’s from her scent, he was not able to place her as Anastasia, the Alpha Female, mostly because he had never met her before. Most unfortunate that there was not extremely useful pieces that scent alone could tell him. “Hallo,” He greeted her, barking softly, forgetting for the moment, that he was caked in mud, and bits and pieces of vegetation that had gotten snagged in the messy tendrils and sticky muck of his fur. Kasimir, as he always did, kept to the hope that one day he would come across someone who, too, spoke the German tongue like him. It would certainly make the conversation a lot smoother for both parties.

It seemed that life had little to no intentions of giving Kasimir even a sliver of what he wanted from it. While this was not entirely unexpected to the Northerner, it was still, despite the fact, a sobering thing never the less. Though Kasimir’s reasons for leaving the Cold North were quite valid, and executed for his own sanity, there was definitely a part of him that wished he had stayed there. What were the teasing(s) compared to the inability to effectively communicate with the wolves of Relic Lore? Or those that he had met thus far, at any rate. The language barrier was certainly Kasimir’s biggest obstacle this far and he was…not necessarily frightened but weary. Rightfully so. Though Kasimir was a gentle creature it wasn’t as if anyone would automatically know that upon setting eyes upon him; and the added horrors of being unable to communicate with the clarity in which they spoke the common tongue he was left in an uncomfortable position of running the very likely risk of being misunderstood. It was too easy to misunderstand, in Kasimir’s personal experience. The white woman offered him a greeting in return, his turquoise blue eyes following the slight rise of her tail with unhindered curiosity before it started to, albeit slowly, sink in. As the assumptions swirled around inside his skull, Kasimir’s ears lowered, shoulders slumping slightly.

Anastasia’s words merely confirmed his suspicions and his head lowered in submission.

Oh fack.

Some deity definitely had it out for Kasimir. While Kasimir had been attempting to avoid this conversation -- and until today had been doing a fairly good job at it -- it was not done with the intent of insult. Shade Slayer had, even, had trouble understanding him, from what Kasimir gathered, and while the male did not mock or spurn, Kasimir was simply, weary of everyone. “Eehh,” Kasimir hesitated thinking through his translations. “My name is Kasimir.” He introduced slowly, English heavily accented. Kasimir figuring giving her his name first was something of a good idea. “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?“ Kasimir asked hopeful.

Thought the word of the day was Eyecandy. Turns out it's Eyetooth. *needs to learn how to read again*

Anastasia gave Kasimir a nod and admitted that she did not, like the wolves he’d met so far, speak his native tongue. Though Kasimir saw this as unfortunate he did not chalk it up to a loss, if only because she mentioned in the next breath that she spoke English and French. Though Kasimir did not speak French he presumed this to mean that despite how well she spoke her English, that she understood. Fluency of languages came easier to some. Kasimir was not one of those fortunate creatures. Ears rose to a tentative half mast position atop his skull as he demurely glimpsed up at her, hoping that she didn’t mind. He wasn’t looking at her with challenge in mind (him challenging anyone would be a joke, he wasn’t really a fighter), more he felt rude not looking at her. Avoiding eye contact, he hoped, was safe enough. He was not accustomed to how these wolves perceived dominance and submissive gestures so he had to trust his body language to do the communicating that he could not. Not all German to English (and the vice versa) translations ended up backwards, though majority seemed to get jumbled. It was just a matter of attempting to piece things together. Shake of muck drying coat was given though the attempt to dislodge it was inheritably futile. Here he was, stumbling over his translations like a fool, covered in mud and debris like some common rat and in the presence of the Alpha Female! Not a way to make a good first impression.

The ivory Anastasia then made an offer that took Kasimir, who’d been inattentively scolding himself for being such a…mess -- literately and figuratively --, for a surprise. Pupils widened within turquoise eyes, blowing them so large there was little but a thin halo of luminously colored irises left as he looked at her as if she’d (humorously) just spoken French. She offered for him to join her on a walk. He understood that he was free to refuse but knew that he wouldn’t because….well, he didn’t want to refuse. “Uhm, ja….y-yes.” He stammered over himself, hoping that she understood his stammering, heavy accented acceptance. “Uhm,” He started towards her once more. “Eh, what should I call you? Uh, by title or name?” He felt unsure of which she preferred, or expected him to use and he wanted to be sure he was using the right thing before he addressed her.

lol. :p

Kasimir could not place the origin of his surprise at her kind and wholly unexpected offer, expect, perhaps that he had never been invited to join a leader on a walk before. In hindsight there was nothing particularly special about the offer. A walk was just a walk, after all. Yet, Kasimir, despite this, felt humbled by her small, simple offer. It was the simple things in life that Kasimir took joy in, so his initial reaction -- to himself, anyway -- was of no real surprise. He was just a lowly subordinate, after all. A subordinate who could not even, truly, effectively communicate with her not even half as well as he had once thought. There was nothing more crippling than learning that what communication skills you’d once took a pride in were not even close to the correct caliber. It had been very well in the Cold North, but in the face of reality none of them harbored the necessary communicative skills they had assumed they had. Reality, it turned out, could be quite the bitch. Essentially, in the words of the males of the Cold North, in a, likely, much more crueler world, Kasimir was …useless. It was a truth he had accepted, of course, yet it did not mean that even now those words that haunted him did not still have the effect they had when first spoken. It still stung, even to simply linger upon them as he did now.

Anastasia, he saw, was smiling at him, and so with a unspoken gratefulness, Kasimir gave her a soft wag of his tail and a tentative smile of his own, in return. In was the very least he could do. Kasimir got the immediate feeling that Anastasia was a kind leader and a kinder woman and with those vibes he felt a hesitant comfort. What he had seen thus far of Pitch Pine Trail wolves, they were not the cruel, dog eat dog survivors of the Cold North, and this though as foreign and alien as it could possible come to Kasimir, was a good change. Giving her his rapt attention was easy for Kasimir, though when given her name he toyed with it in his head, trying to predict how badly he might butcher it as it left his lips. “Ana,” Kasimir finally decided, demurely, glimpsing down at his paws for a few seconds. It felt…different to address a leader with such informalities but also nice as well. “Uhm,” Kasimir used as a unsatisfactory filler as he attempted to gather his translations in his head. “I have not lived here long.” It sounded right to Kasimir as his words processed in his mind as German left his lips as English. “Was…uh,…what about you?” It was a struggle, to keep himself from slipping into the wrong language, but he would make the effort because he felt that Anastasia, who had shown him, like the few others, nothing but kindness, was worth it.