will be personally dating this before aria found constantine... just cause i still don't know if she'll be allowed in the pack hehe
aria was moving slow. something forced her to stop. it was as if some higher power wanted her to be here-- but she didn't know why. constantine was at the ocean, she needed to be at the ocean. but still, something begged her to slow her pace-- so she did.
she wandered quietly through the valley, entered a marshy territory that was rather nice on her feet. her paw pads, from months of traveling, were cracked and worn. every now and then she'd stop to find herbs to make a salve for them, but it did little. she was up and on the move again in an instant, and her feet barely had time to rest. but the soft, mucky earth was nice-- even though it dirtied her white fur. she moved along the edges, not wanting to get stuck in the insides, and as she did so she spotted a wolf-- one that was as nice on the eyes as this mud was on her feet. aria slowed even more, watching, waiting-- silent but curious. her tail waved low at her hocks, but she did not initiate conversation.
Lost in thought she does not note the other's approach for a moment, starting when she does finally notice her. Smoothing ruffled fur back down she tilts her head, curious about her silence, wondering if she is waiting for Poet to initiate conversation or if she is ... merely observing (strange, perhaps, but the ex-priestess has done stranger in truth.)
"The summer makes me nostalgic," Poet says at last, breaking the comfortable silence resting between them. She looks back towards Bearclaw once more, towards her old abandoned altar's home, and sighs, releasing some pent up emotion she'd been holding on to still. She'd never gotten to place her marigolds. There will be time in the future for marigolds. "Do you live near, or are you a traveler as well?"
She is the first to question Poet's abstract musings, offering one answer for another. Fair enough. Poet smiles back, contemplating for a moment best how to explain. "It is a season of rebirth, the twin of winter... but I find the heat makes me more restless, more likely to linger on past events. We make our homes in winter and leave them in summer, do we not?" As if she's old enough to truly speak! And yet it feels true (perhaps Phocion's ideas of the sun are not so far from the truth after all). More honestly she adds, "I left an old home behind some months ago, and I have not been so close to it since," gesturing with her foxpoint nose in the direction of Bearclaw. "Yourself?"