ours is the fury
Castalla was not the only wolf within the throes of intoxicated, loud bodies this night. It would happen to be this night, at this tavern, at this time that Wolfram himself is settled along the same strip of wood that so many drinks and words are passed along. He's not right beside her, no, but as he tips back another swig of his drink of choice - something strong and potent, no doubt - he notices the lighter tone of her coat as a shimmer in the glass.
Part of him is dormant and lazy enough to remain at his seat. It's a dominant part of him that takes hold of the forefront of his life easily, as it had been ever since he can remember, but then there is a subtle thrum of his chest that urges him toward the semblance of somefamiliarity. Curiosity, maybe. His mind drifts to the night they met outside the fighting ring, and how similar a situation it might be to show his face to her now.
Evidently, he's near-full with alcohol and the night always brought out a side of him that was a little easier to act on. Perhaps it was the cloak of darkness, the shadows so easy to hide in, or even the moon - in any case, for any reason, it takes only a matter of will until he's sliding away from his spot on the counter to a spot near her. He pointedly leaves a seat space between them, and for a few moments he says nothing at all and looks to the bar ahead thoughtfully, nonchalant as always.
Finally, after he's done enough staying quiet or thinking (whichever one it might be), he speaks out. If she didn't notice before, he's sure she may recognize his voice now. "Two here." Simple, blunt words, his intentions clear as he tips his head toward Castalla and then the space before him.
It hardly takes long as he trades coin with the bartender and within a few minutes, a drink is passed down to her and in front of him smoothly. He turns his gaze to her slowly, that same steady, low look as she'd been met with before settling on her. He speaks only simply, a greeting of her most famous title; "White Lionness."
@Castalla <3 sorry to hijack ))):
Part of him is dormant and lazy enough to remain at his seat. It's a dominant part of him that takes hold of the forefront of his life easily, as it had been ever since he can remember, but then there is a subtle thrum of his chest that urges him toward the semblance of somefamiliarity. Curiosity, maybe. His mind drifts to the night they met outside the fighting ring, and how similar a situation it might be to show his face to her now.
Evidently, he's near-full with alcohol and the night always brought out a side of him that was a little easier to act on. Perhaps it was the cloak of darkness, the shadows so easy to hide in, or even the moon - in any case, for any reason, it takes only a matter of will until he's sliding away from his spot on the counter to a spot near her. He pointedly leaves a seat space between them, and for a few moments he says nothing at all and looks to the bar ahead thoughtfully, nonchalant as always.
Finally, after he's done enough staying quiet or thinking (whichever one it might be), he speaks out. If she didn't notice before, he's sure she may recognize his voice now. "Two here." Simple, blunt words, his intentions clear as he tips his head toward Castalla and then the space before him.
It hardly takes long as he trades coin with the bartender and within a few minutes, a drink is passed down to her and in front of him smoothly. He turns his gaze to her slowly, that same steady, low look as she'd been met with before settling on her. He speaks only simply, a greeting of her most famous title; "White Lionness."
Speech
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