Whitestone Monadnock I'd Call On My Lord

"Wild Rye Fields." She stated smoothly. "We've been told to play nice with them unless they really need to be put in their place. It's been spoken that they might be too close for comfort." Her tone was neither aggressive or kind. A soft somewhere in between the two. She hadn't personally had an issue with any of them but figured they wouldn't have been warned about them if things were all cheery.

Her good ear flicked as his stated that it wasn't his face. "Your personality doesn't strike me as awful so I don't have a clue what it would be." Her shoulders gave a half shrug. He seemed like one of those guys who acted so tough but would be blown away by the breeze if it came through too strong. The pale female had to wonder how long he'd survive here if he didn't disappear first. "Only sometimes." She knew the others here wouldn't appreciate someone who wanted to take no action all the time. So she held hope he truly meant sometimes.

A small smirk pulled at her lips again. "You don't have to directly tell me for me to know. We're open here. But it's a pleasure to formally meet you Larkspur." She paused to glance at him before eyes continued to stare at the lake. "Piety." The Santoro stated before answering his questions. "Not often. Only when the stars are out or I'm admiring beauty." She rose to her feet and took in the sniff of the air. Lynx and deer. Both stale but it was obvious the lynx wasn't as close. "Be useful." She chimed before jumping off of the rock and setting out towards the smell of deer. It wouldn't take them too long to come across a picked apart meal.

# C W T

"I'm making a good first impression with you, then," he offered, though wasn't really sure what sort of impression he was leaving. He was tired, a little bit wet, and just wanted to take a long, peaceful nap. Do a lot of nothing for a while.


He found himself staring at the lake with her, an ear twisting her way when she returned with her own name. Piety? That sounded more like a child's nickname than an actual name. He almost went to stare at her to try and figure if she was being truthful or not. She didn't end with a Just kidding! followed by her real name, so she must have been serious. "I don't think it's very beautiful," he confessed.

Then his scarred companion got up and sniffed. He did too, but instead of that hopeful, good feeling of maybe filling his belly, he felt dread. It was that lynx again, trying to come after him. No matter how many he killed, it was never the right one. The white girl then walked off with two words of advice. He nodded and watched her walk off, resting his chin on his paws as he continued to stare at the lake.

Maybe he'd take her advice another day.