Neverwinter Forest I Miss the Taste of a Sweeter Life

This got… interesting? lmao

The demeanor his presence was met with had his emotions settling into a constant flow of positivity. Delighted, blithe, beatific, cheery… it didn’t matter which word was used to describe his mood, for the simple form of each was ‘happy’. Since his daring escape from his kidnappers, he’d discovered that few spoke the tongue of his motherland. This time around, however, he’d crossed paths with someone who not only knew the language of his people, but was also one of his kind. Foreigners wandering lands their paws were never meant to touch, but, by some twist of fate, both had ended up defying that very law. They’d both found themselves trekking over unfamiliar soils, and both had been set on a course leading them towards the day on which they’d meet. It was the work of the Moirai—that he was certain of.

A name was given, then. Her name was given. Her given name was one he rather enjoyed, the sound of each syllable drawing him in further and further. The second name, along with her family name, were strange to him. They were not of Greek origins, and the way each was pronounced had him suspecting she was, perhaps, of Roman descent. Alas, he dare not voice his suspicions, not knowing enough of the other language or culture to know for sure, as well as not wanting to risk frightening away his chance at a new friend—or something more. That thought had him mentally scolding himself, his mind urging him to think rationally. It was only moments ago that they’d met, yet there he was thinking of the Moirai and something stronger than a friendship developing between the two of them. It wasn’t right, he knew, thus he took a second to clear his mind of any wicked notions. Once his senses had returned to their rightful order, he gave another polite bow of his crown, as well as offered up the sincerest of smiles. “Εκάτη... έχετε ένα αρκετά δελεαστική όνομα,” the male murmured, meaning to compliment her, but hesitant when wondering of how she might react. Alastor’s mother had raised him to be a gentlemen, to never force anyone into something they were uncomfortable with, so he was weary with concern of how she might interpret his expression.

Softly, and as discretely as was manageable, the argent wolf cleared his throat. Her question caught him off guard, though he was quick to regain his composure. “εγω ειμαι,” he answered, his verbal response then paired with a slow nod of his head. “Αρχικά, ήμουν μέλος ενός πακέτου που βρίσκεται στην Ελλάδα. Ήταν το πακέτο γεννήθηκα σε, και το ίδιο μέρος όπου διαμένει η οικογένειά μου.” Those few words brought a tidal wave of memories back to him, even though he’d spent more time away from home than he’d spent within it. While his time there was cut short, he still missed it greatly. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to return to his place of birth someday, though he had reason to doubt it would ever happen. Reality was a cruel and merciless thing at times, but he knew, deep down, that he needed to face the facts. “Όταν ήρθα εδώ, μπήκα σε ένα πακέτο που είχε αποκλειστεί από μια ρωμαϊκή. Όταν διαλυθεί, περιπλανήθηκα για λίγο πριν από τη συνεδρίαση άλλο λύκο. Μου πρόσφερε ένα σπίτι μέσα συσκευασίας του, την οποία αποδέχθηκε, και τώρα είμαι μέρος ενός πακέτου που ζει σε αυτό το βουνό εκεί πέρα.” Using his muzzle, he pointed out the peak that he called home—Silvertip Mountain—even though it didn’t quite feel like one within his heart. He didn’t know why he’d told her everything, but hoped the large amount of information wouldn’t push her away. “Τι σας;” Alastor grew silent as he waited to hear what she had to share. He could smell no current pack scents on her body, but was reluctant to trust that little detail. He knew of few packs in the area, after all, so who was he to say she was lacking the scent of one? He couldn't assume such a thing, he wouldn't allow himself to.