Post by kaz on Jun 6, 2022 1:24:46 GMT
When the two spoke to each other it was hard not to feel an outsider — that much he was, Murmur knew, but still, the words shared between them felt intimate enough that his presence alone seemed an intrusion more than anything else. He stood there, his mouth secretly watering at the prey before him, watching the wolves before him converse like two lovers whose conversation he ought not be listening to; it was all the man could do to avert his eyes as they spoke and pretend he was focused on something else (not that there was much else to be focused on, but a man does his best.)
“…But I do hope you have been faring well,” said Arsa and this, Murmur knew, was directed at himself. He felt grateful; the conversation had been playful, perhaps mischievous until just moments ago and now he suddenly felt he was trespassing. But thankfully Arsa brought it back round to him. He smiled amiably at the man.
“I am fed, watered and creating poetry,” said Murmur after a beat. “I am doing the best a man like me could hope for.” He paused a moment, looking wistfully out to the snowy fields before returning his gaze to the two men. “I will say... I’ve heard tell of some sort of guild of wolves among these lands, though. I met the so-called leader of these wolves, whose title escapes me now, but Timber was the woman’s name. A determined wolf, hardened by life and its struggles,” said Murmur, looking somewhat pointedly at Revan; perhaps the man could find some relation there. He turned his gaze back to the landscape. “It was a curious idea the way it was explained to me: wolves connected not by loyalty or love or familial bonds, but simply by necessity or convenience — I could not tell; drawn together only occasionally, loosely tied to each other by the contracts which they take out from other packs. Doing their dirty work, I suppose.” The man was speaking now only to fill the silence and to offer something up of value to the two strangers, but the more he spoke, the more fascinating the idea of this guild became to him.
“I do wonder how such an unusual pack will fare here in these lands — not that I know much of these lands myself.” He looked to the two men before him, smiling a bit for the first time in awhile. “Might be worth keeping an eye out for them. I suspect that Timber is the tireless sort, bound to make a mark. I smell change on the wind.” Murmur paused, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Or perhaps nothing will come of it. Wolves like to talk, and I've heard much wilder tales before."
“…But I do hope you have been faring well,” said Arsa and this, Murmur knew, was directed at himself. He felt grateful; the conversation had been playful, perhaps mischievous until just moments ago and now he suddenly felt he was trespassing. But thankfully Arsa brought it back round to him. He smiled amiably at the man.
“I am fed, watered and creating poetry,” said Murmur after a beat. “I am doing the best a man like me could hope for.” He paused a moment, looking wistfully out to the snowy fields before returning his gaze to the two men. “I will say... I’ve heard tell of some sort of guild of wolves among these lands, though. I met the so-called leader of these wolves, whose title escapes me now, but Timber was the woman’s name. A determined wolf, hardened by life and its struggles,” said Murmur, looking somewhat pointedly at Revan; perhaps the man could find some relation there. He turned his gaze back to the landscape. “It was a curious idea the way it was explained to me: wolves connected not by loyalty or love or familial bonds, but simply by necessity or convenience — I could not tell; drawn together only occasionally, loosely tied to each other by the contracts which they take out from other packs. Doing their dirty work, I suppose.” The man was speaking now only to fill the silence and to offer something up of value to the two strangers, but the more he spoke, the more fascinating the idea of this guild became to him.
“I do wonder how such an unusual pack will fare here in these lands — not that I know much of these lands myself.” He looked to the two men before him, smiling a bit for the first time in awhile. “Might be worth keeping an eye out for them. I suspect that Timber is the tireless sort, bound to make a mark. I smell change on the wind.” Murmur paused, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Or perhaps nothing will come of it. Wolves like to talk, and I've heard much wilder tales before."
