Blackberry Fields gargouille

<blockquote>The edge of the forest gave a shudder, while branches danced above his head; as the gray beast moved away from the treeline, he was greeted by a spreading expanse of green. It was a welcome sight, after so many days of aimless wandering within the forest; the stone-colored wolf paused, inhaling the crisp scent of grass and berries. After the pause, he began to move - not lingering for too long in one place. Something about him was erratic. Ears eagerly twisting, listening to ever subtle sound that emanated from the forest - from time to time, Corbin's broad head would turn and he would peruse the berry bushes, but still his motion would not cease for long. The beast roamed the field, at first heading to the East but then - when a moschate scent caught his attention - he turned and began heading South instead. The wanderer did not know where he was going, but he knew he had to keep on moving. It was a desperate crawl for freedom, but at the same time, he wished to avoid the inevitable wolf encounter. The chance that he'd stumble upon an entire pack was high, and Corbin was ever vigilant in his watch.

Chuffing softly to himself, the grizzled man decided that he needed to rest. Constant motion seemed like a good thing, a progressive thing - but he was wearing down and needed to sleep. As he neared the Southern edge of the field, he finally stopped his movement. A brief glance around, and the beast slunk towards the trees once more. There was a certain <i>safety</i> within the darkness there, yet as his muzzle passed beneath the shadow of a branch, Corbin froze and reversed. In one fluid motion he twisted away from the strange trees, drinking in their foreign scent - and the smell of wolves, which seemed to lurk within the darkness. Suspicious, his eyes narrow - erupting with a short, sharp bark; it breaks the stillness and snakes through the trees. He remained there as still as stone, watching the tree's edge and hoping - desperately - that he hadn't been followed after all.</blockquote>

(This post was last modified: Mar 22, 2012, 11:49 PM by Corbin.)

Hope, you don't mind me popping in(:

The overwhelming scent of blackberries had loured her to these luscious fields. This land was new to the white girl, she had never trekked thorough the endless fields. Today was different. She was a pack wolf now, Swift River to be exact. The plan had gone smoothly and she wanted to take some time alone and ventur out of the pack lands. So, she left early morning and let her paws take her where they wanted to go.

The white lady ended up in Blackberry Fields for whatever reason, she did not know. The air was crisp and cool. With an afternoon breeze rolling thorough the land, ruffling her white luxurious fur. Scents whirled around her like a typhoon. Many she had never smelt before, while others like the forest and the fauna she hunted, were an everlasting scent she'd remember. One scent stuck out, though, a moschate one to be exact.

The smell was unfamiliar and fresh, making her hackles bristle instinctively. Suddenly a loud bark, broke the silence that had befallen on the lands. A small growl rumbled in her small chest as she crouched down in case of an attack. The culprit of the noise was no where to be seen, most likely hiding in blackberry bushes or the shadows of the trees. Either way, she would expect them if they attacked her. With her small figure, she stalked closer to the edge of clearing in case she needed to run for it."Show yourself," she said in her French-British accent.

|| Ash is welcome to make an appearance in any thread. ||

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No sooner had his chest burst with the call, that there was a response. It rang out from the darkness and made his fur bristle in earnest; no longer was he speculative about his surroundings - someone was <i>there</i> and they were watching him. It made Corbin rather antsy for confrontation, even though he was a very withdrawn fellow. The sooner the two wolves connected, the sooner he could be on his way - somewhere safe, hopefully, and without trouble. The lilting voice sounded vaguely familiar, yet it was feminine, and by that account alone he knew it was foreign. The subtle inflection was familiar because of the accent; there was a vague <i>frenchness</i> to it, to coin a phrase. Corbin shifted where he stood, but did not step in to the forest. A moment or two - tense, prickling moments - passed by and he did not turn around until he felt absolutely certain the stranger was not within the forest. As he turned, he saw a blur of white just beyond some bushes. With a gruff little cough, the grizzled man turned and began to investigate.

What he came upon, with each stride tentative, was indeed a stranger. She was coated in pale alabaster, and her body snaked across the ground defensively. A part of the aged gentleman wanted to snort with laughter at her behavior, but he refrained; the barest hint of amusement danced through his grim gray eyes, but was quickly swallowed up. Corbin took another few steps, but he made sure to create a bit of a ruckus; hoping the woman would notice him so that he would not spook her - he meant no harm, after all. <b>"Bon matin, mademoiselle."</b> The wolf had an odd voice; it was deep and masculine, crackling from disuse, but refined at the same time. Perfectly pronounced syllables melded together, creating a swooning, charismatic speech. After a pause, Corbin sat back upon his haunches - ears twisting towards the treeline behind him, in case a ruck of wolves were to emerge. At the same time, he looked rather passive and submissive. <b>"I did not mean to disturb you."</b> He commented lastly, before falling silent.
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(This post was last modified: Mar 24, 2012, 03:18 AM by Corbin.)

White, triangular ears caught the sound of his approach first. A second later, his grey littered body came into view of her soft amber eyes. When he spoke, his tongue was quite similar to her own. Well this is a first. The white lady hasn't met anyone around Relic Lore with a similar accent. They've always been pain and neutral all besides Rhysis's. He had a strange, southern drawl that was quite interesting.

"Bon matin, mademoiselle." The grey brute said. A small smile tugged at her lips. How familiar those words were to her. Not that she liked it at home, if you can even call it home again, but that was how her family had spoken at times. It soothed her a little bit, giving a sense of her heritage she longed to forget. Before he fell silent, he continued on apologizing if he disturbed her. He didn't exactly disturb her, just caught her off guard is all. Mimicking his relaxed composure, she too sat back on her haunches curling her long, delicate tail around her tiny paws.

"Bonjour à vous aussi monsieur," she answered with a smile before continuing on, "No, you merely caught me off guard is all." It was indeed interesting having to greet someone in her native tongue. She at times struggled to remember the words, but it all came back to her light bugs to a flame.

(This post was last modified: Mar 24, 2012, 03:03 AM by Athena.)

|| Ash is welcome to make an appearance in any thread. ||

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The gray wolf shouldn't have been surprised by this encounter at all; it was a foolish thought to believe he could evade his own kind for long, and in the end, Corbin was reluctantly accepting of this fact. At least it wasn't someone dangerous, or someone he was truly avoiding. What did surprise him, was the female's use of his own language - her voice flamboyant in it's expression, lilting as if it had always spoken the language of his forebears. It was refreshing, and Corbin found his face breaking out in a shy smile; he didn't even try to hide it. Her own face glowed with a contented smile, and for an instant Corbin felt rather giddy - a spark, a glimmer, something rushed through him in that moment. <b><i>No, you merely caught me off guard is all."</b></i> She assured him, and the wolf gave a subtle nod. <b>"Well, I still apologize. I should not have been so forward."</b> As his apology left his lips, the beast's smile vanished - transforming in to the stern, serious face of one who had done wrong. It did not last though, and quickly sported the same charismatic half-smile.

<b>"I thought perhaps, that you were following me. A silly thought,"</b> He shook his head softly back and forth, letting a hesitant chuckle slip from his throat before silence engulfed them both. Now that he was faced with an individual, Corbin felt a sense of propriety overtake him. He knew that in these moments, conversation was key... Yet, his voice refused to co-operate. What was he supposed to talk about? <b>"You handle French very well,"</b> He suddenly blurted, as the thought came to his attention. This caused him to let out another nervous sound, a mixture between a sigh and soft laughter. <b>"It is rare to hear anyone speaking the language, and you do so quite, <i>eloquently.</i>"</b> If wolves could blush (and well, if he was a few years younger) he would have probably turned a nice shade of pink. Instead, Corbin's ears slipped back against his head in a shy gesture - submissive, withdrawn, he wanted nothing more than this awkwardness to vanish. Perhaps he was overstaying his welcome?
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(This post was last modified: Mar 24, 2012, 03:56 AM by Corbin.)

She accepted his apology with a nod of her head. She was glad that he was not some snobby old man that would want to attack her for something so stupid. So his apology sent a sigh of relieve through her veins. He continued on to talk about her following him and her exquisite French. She was not actually following him on purpose, but she may have without knowing it, so she decided to just let that part of the conversation go.

"Why thank you, she said politely. This was the first time she met someone with well spoken French. It was a nice change. She didn't feel so, abnormal. "It definitely is. So far you are the only one that I have come across that speaks French as well as you do." She finished with a small laugh. All the wolves here were quite bland in their language.

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