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 Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 1:22 am
"What?" Anatto asked, looking around with wide, innocent eyes. The question hadn't seemed half as impertinent to him as it had apparently come out. It seemed perfectly logical, actually: as far as he knew, the only time the 'warrior bitches' (as his so-called grandfather had taken to calling them behind everyone's back) actually bothered to travel down here, it was to foist off some or another pup on a member, or find someone to carouse with to create some or another pup.
He looked up at his father, brow furrowing. He was in truth a little exasperated. No, actually -- that was precisely the point. Anatto did know that his family was a half-day's walk away, and he didn't have even the slightest intention of ever wandering up there to say hello. For that matter, he suspected that Casimir must have some family of his own, somewhere, but judging by how Anatto had never met them, it seemed pretty likely that he, too, wasn't interested in such things.
Honestly, as much as Balios seemed to treasure it, the whole notion of 'family' seemed totally overrated to Anatto.
"Well. Here we are. I'm sure you're probably a bit disappointed." He didn't say this sarcastically, or to be mean -- it just seemed like fact. They were, by and large, disappointing. "Maybe if we'd been given a bit of forewarning, we would've had some time to prepare. Rehearse a little, maybe. Come up with a speech." Ask Balios what he was supposed to say. He shifted his weight a little from paw to paw, because he knew he was making things worse but, honestly, he wasn't sure if the whole situation could get any better. And honestly, somebody had to crack a smile eventually. Vercinix had snorted! That was progress.
But would Chilapa even know how to laugh?
....That was a gloomy thought. But not one entirely without basis. She seemed a little slow about sarcasm, anyway....
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 4:33 pm
Casimir sighed forcefully, and with just a trace of audible disgust. He gave Anatto and then Django a hard eyeballing. "Sure," he said a little sharply, "maybe I set my sights a little too high. But I think now that you all know what each other looks like, anyone who is not willing to have a nice conversation and catch up with a long-lost sibling can freely go." His mane bristled with ire, but there was, surprisingly, no passive aggression in his tone, no promise of further lectures if a wolf or three were to quietly bow out.
It took enough time for Django to slowly swallow down his rage that he only caught the very basic gist of what his father was saying. He stood and, after a moment, gave Chilapa a short but baleful stare - a stare that was equal parts investigative and condemnatory. Then, turning, he stalked away into the woods, his hulking frame disappearing into the underbrush.
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