10-21-2013, 12:00 PM
When Javed tells Avery about the upcoming meeting, it makes her brow quirk. They discuss it. The little kin-inclusive pack living in the mountains isn't the only one with a somewhat flat heirarchy and no obvious 'Alpha'. And Avery expresses -- to Javed -- some opinions. But as she understands it, they are making a battle plan, and she refrains from attending. Javed, she trusts, will pass along anything new and noteworthy. Javed, she trusts, will not commit them to anything truly mad.
Javed, she trusts.
--
Melantha is absolutely there. She feels out of place and she isn't sure what's going on but they're a pack now, and when Javed looks less-than-pleased and wary, the young Fury whose blood sings with as strong a voice as that of the Silver Fang who stands beside her straightens her shoulders and stands just a little taller, almost daring the Fostern Ahroun to just try and tell her to keep her mouth shut if she has something worthwhile to say, something to add, an idea. They're a republic because none of them stand quite as strong alone as with each other. They're a republic because none of them can speak for the others.
Granted: she doesn't really know what's going on or how one might go about shutting down an interdimensional doom-portal. So she stands, lean arms crossed over her chest, shoulder to shoulder with Charlotte, and they stand right with Erich, and the thrum of their totem stands whole and complete around them, as evident as the still-healing marks of the most recent rite of bonding stand out glaring and red on Melantha's knuckles.
They are a pack. Even if two are silent, they are one.
Javed, she trusts.
--
Melantha is absolutely there. She feels out of place and she isn't sure what's going on but they're a pack now, and when Javed looks less-than-pleased and wary, the young Fury whose blood sings with as strong a voice as that of the Silver Fang who stands beside her straightens her shoulders and stands just a little taller, almost daring the Fostern Ahroun to just try and tell her to keep her mouth shut if she has something worthwhile to say, something to add, an idea. They're a republic because none of them stand quite as strong alone as with each other. They're a republic because none of them can speak for the others.
Granted: she doesn't really know what's going on or how one might go about shutting down an interdimensional doom-portal. So she stands, lean arms crossed over her chest, shoulder to shoulder with Charlotte, and they stand right with Erich, and the thrum of their totem stands whole and complete around them, as evident as the still-healing marks of the most recent rite of bonding stand out glaring and red on Melantha's knuckles.
They are a pack. Even if two are silent, they are one.
my whole life is thunder.