10th of Glade, 121
xxHumans were strange. She didn’t like them, and they were usually untrustworthy. Much like cats they would toy and play with their prey for the simple enjoyment of it. They’d hoard treasures and steal things out of greed. Wolves, however, did not. Wolves were a simple creature who took only what was needed and didn’t play tricks or games with their prey. At least, the successful ones didn’t. So when then would this other Rathari choose to be so human? They were more delicate, too, which was apparent from her reddened skin from the ice beneath her feet.
Telion had moved closer now. At first Senara held her breath in wait to see what the woman dared to do. But there was something about her approach that just screamed safe. She didn’t even flinch as the woman picked up her feet with soft, warm hands and wrapped the sunshine-smelling cloak around them.
The comfort of warmth around them outweighed the trapped feeling of enclosed feet, though to test just how enclosed they were she wiggled her toes. Ah, not much. The fabric moved easily but kept the heat inside and slowly she felt the familiar prickle of skin warming spread over her feet.
Still.
But there was Rickter once again with his damn wisdom. No shit, she thought, of course it’s important to adapt. But sometimes adapting means knowing when not to and getting as far away from whatever dangerous situation you’re in.
“What can’t you eat, and why?” Senara asked, perking her head up with some interest now. She’d kill him if he said anything in relation to meat. Though part of her hoped honey was on that list. That and any other sugar. Might even stop the brunette from torturing her so. Whatever Rickter said, she'd listen intently to his explanation. Certain foods, thankfully ones she's either never heard of or disliked, were on that list. It seemed she didn't have to worry, though honey was not. A small annoyance.
The girl's dark brows pinched. “Humans are fragile.” She stated, frowning at her own wobbly legs and cloak-covered feet. Just weeks ago she’d snapped legs such as hers like toothpicks. And yet now she was one of them, with feet that were still becoming used to the textures beneath her and skin that had no protective layers against branches or stone. Not even fur to protect against cold.
She would wear clothes if only for protection, though she still didn’t understand the objection to nudity otherwise. If she were warm enough without it, why wear it? Surely it must just get in the way or waste time, and the strange human worry of ripping clothing must only be a deterrent, right?
But it never had been. Men and women would flock to her mountains, and even during searing she’d catch people ripping their sleeves on branches and jagged rocks only to scream profanities as if such a thing was like being wounded.
If it would just rip and prove to be an annoyance, and if unlike Rickter said it was not being worn for protection then why wear it?
Not much made sense. But perhaps…
Perhaps spending more time with the couple in front of her would provide useful. She could learn from them, at the very least, why their kind was so adamant about covering their skin even on lazy days.
As the gentle glade breeze teased hints of plum and flora in the air, she listened carefully to Rickter’s next words. Well.. she didn’t know what he looked like anymore. He seemed foolish before, but now she wondered how much of that foolishness and abrasiveness had been her misunderstanding of his human gestures. After all, wolves earn respect with fighting whereas people - as far as she understood it- earned it in an array of ways stretching from wealth to status. Neither of which she cared for, but it only highlighted the stark differences between her and the world she was slowly mingling in to.
She waited after he finished, first questioning if she even truly wanted to ask such a question that tickled the back of her mind. She could simply spit it out and let him confirm or deny her suspicions. Then again, words were as fickle as a butterfly. Would she be able to trust whatever answer he gave?
No. She wouldn’t. Which meant there was no point in asking. The white wolf closed her previously parted lips and chuffed.
She practically ignored Brianne’s intrusion. That damn brush.. She’d tried to use it thrice before but in none of those times did it go smoothly. The sharp, painful tug of her hair had nearly cost Brianne her hand when Senara ripped it out. So when it was given to Telion she narrowed her eyes at it, too.
But Telion was different. Maybe… maybe she’d find a way to make it painless.
The next bit of their conversation dealt with some woman named ‘Hannah’. At first she was about to tune out of it entirely until that name popped up.
Talon. That ‘prince’ or whoever Brianne had called him, the same man who had bore into her chest and changed his scent almost entirely since their first meeting in frost, but had also filled her with a sense of respect. He was a strange creature. Huge, too. And one she hoped to meet again if only to figure him out. But Rickter knew him. Perhaps this would be how.
Senara watched intently as Telion began cutting his hair. Her hands were swift, smooth, and the soft snipping sounds of the sheers whispered themselves towards her as strands of hair piled themselves on and around the black wolf. His eyes threatened to close a few times but mostly he stayed in tune with the world around him.
How one could be relaxed around blades was a puzzle she had no desire to figure out, and she scoffed lightly as she watched. When the cut was finally done her head tilted. Not much had been cut, but he looked… better? Somehow? Her eyes narrowed as she looked over Telion’s handiwork with approval.
But she was next.
Her toes curled ever so slightly within the cloak and she tensed. Blades. Two of them no less, would soon be close to her skin and a direct line of control would be placed into Telion’s hands. The very idea bothered her. But Telion… Telion was sunshine and fucking rainbows, a woman with an unnecessary amount of spunk and cheer who likely wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Likely.
She growled low in her throat a few times but cut it off- best not to anger the black wolf. In fact it was best if she were to take control of the situation. Or at least any part of it she could.
“...Now do me.” She stated, clearing her throat. This one. The start, the timing, the giving command so she felt as though some part of this were safe. But then why even with this new attempt at control did she feel like her skin was crawling?
