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 Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 1:18 pm
 It had been a long while since Lungaia had been anything but alone, and her social skills were perhaps not as well-developed as they could be. She had, after all, grown up in seclusion with a seer and a pair of sociopaths -- and, not long after that, just the sociopaths -- and while her upbringing had taught her a number of useful skills, it had skipped over the finer points of social interaction.
Not to mention, she'd been living alone for so long now, that she had half forgotten how to speak, much less make friends.
More disturbing to her was the quiet buzzing in the back of her mind, the constant foggy blanket over her senses...the eternal feeling of deja vu and familiarity and those awful half-memories of things that never happened. She feared for her sanity, and she hated herself for it. Lungaia was not a wolf to fear anything, much less her own mind.
She had to keep herself distracted. And what better way to do it, than the company of that male? He was weak, and pathetic, and useless...but Lungaia rather liked that about him. It meant she could keep busy, keeping him occupied. It meant she had something to focus on, other than the thoughts in her own head. And he was just awkward enough that she doubted he even noticed her own social short-comings. Perfect.
Now, if only he didn't remind her so forcibly of someone. Someone who didn't exist.
"Well," she said, looking over her shoulder at the meek green wolf. They'd been journeying -- slower than she would have liked, but then, where was she even going that she'd be in a hurry to get there? -- for a few days now, and she was a little surprised that he was still following her at all. He must be desperate. Doubly pathetic. She cleared her throat, to try again, making a heroic stab at conversation. "Are you hungry?"
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Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 10:44 am
 It was nice not having to think about things. He didn't have to think about his next meal, because the deep gnawing in his belly had been calmed by a steady supply of food. He didn't have to wonder about Laera, and where she was going or what she was doing, unless he wished to remember her fondly, and even then he barely did that much. He didn't have to wonder about the fates of the children he abandoned, because they were surely growing up and living their own lives, and perhaps they didn't remember him already. Traveling with Lungaia made him feel incredibly relieved and at peace with just about everything. Gaspard was so worn out emotionally that he gladly fell into a pattern of complacency.
It was simpler this way. Eat when you are hungry, sleep when you are tired, and keep moving. He didn't know where he was going, but he figured that Lungaia had a destination in mind. It didn't matter to him, really. He followed, got what he needed, and that was that. He didn't even mind Lungaia's quietness.
When she spoke, he looked up at her with a bright smile. Like a puppy being spoken to by it's mother. " I could eat, yes," he said cheerfully. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he'd never say no to more food. It felt too good to be full. "Do you know this place? Is there prey?" He paused to sniff the air. "Oh... sorry for getting excited."
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Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2011 1:28 am
She paused, looking over the brightly-colored wolf thoughtfully for a moment. Perhaps it was some sort of misplaced maternal instinct, she thought; maybe that was what drew her to him. Nothing more than that.
She was glad he hadn't asked where they were going, as she had no destination in mind. She kept herself moving out of instinct and habit. Lungaia was a wolf of specific hungers, and they were not generally those well-suited to pack life. Unfortunate, the position she found herself in: her hunger for violence kept her away from the peaceful packs...and her strong ethics excluded her from those of darker appetites. She was no blind murderer like her father, after all. She was a warrior.
She merely had yet to find her place.
"There's prey everywhere, Gaspard," she said, and her eyes glinted with amusement. She surveyed him for a moment, an unnerving, lingering gaze that suggested that perhaps he was prey, but then a grin spread up her white-washed maw. "You're quite useless, you know," she said, but there was fondness in her voice. She turned back to the path. "I think it's time you learn to help yourself, a bit. You'll be helping fill your own maw today."
It wasn't a question.
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Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 9:01 am
"Everywhere?" He echoed dully, looking around as if something was just about to spring out from the bushes, and jump right into his path. Then he looked at her in confusion. First she said he was useless, but in a tone that was unlike the one his sister used when saying the same thing. Then it dawned on him that she was telling him that he was going to work for his meal that day. The realization immediately made him nervous, and he outwardly quivered. Would it be like all his other attempts? Even Laera hadn't succeeded in teaching him, but she had been too impatient and too harsh. Would Lungaia be the same way?
"O-okay," he answered, trying to cover up his nervousness and failing for the most part. "So, do we, uh, just wait for something to come along?" He asked, looking at her with wide eyes, then dropped his voice. "W-we should be quiet too, right?"
Gaspard could only envision terrible things, like the lashing of hooves or the swiping of claws, and if Lungaia hadn't been standing right there, he would have slunk away and cowered. But he tried his best to stand straight, his eyes ahead instead of on his paws.
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Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 11:12 pm
She contemplated this for a moment, feeling rather out of her depth. He was like a child. A delicate idiot child. The idea was oddly charming, and it disgusted her to feel that way. Her tattered ears flicked and she nibbled at her lower lip contemplatively before inspiration struck her.
Well! If he was like a child, then she would just teach him to hunt the way she herself had been taught, a lifetime ago.
"Here. Lurk...right here," she said, nodding toward some undergrowth. "Stay in the shadow. It'll hide most of your color, the green will fade in with the grass." Well, it probably wouldn't, but it wouldn't hurt to make him think it would. Would improve his confidence, maybe. "Stay there...and keep your eyes and ears open. When something comes by....let your instincts guide you." He had instincts, didn't he? There was a wolf in there somewhere, there had to be.
Without explanation, assuming he would follow her directions -- thinking it highly impossible that he could do anything else -- she disappeared into the shadows.
She was gone for some time, and silence settled upon them.
After a moment, however, something broke through the brush, stumbling drunkenly directly past Gaspard. It was a doe, young and frightened, eyes wide and white-rimmed. She was limping badly, nearly ready to fall, as her hamstring had been torn on one leg.
Lungaia, waiting in the brush, watched with rapt attention and waited to see what he would do with this gift.
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