ashes

Oh, I know what you mean! It's been years since I've jumped into the RPing game. After WWS and Myth closed, I lost a lot of interest in it. :) I'm glad Manda pulled me back in, though. It's nice to see familiar faces, so to speak.

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Winters were always hard. Kierkegaard could not have easily boasted that he had not suffered through enough of them on his own. He would not have admitted to being afraid, but there had been times when his ribs that jutted from his sides and his eyes had been off-set by deep shadows from a lack of sleep. Still, he had survived, and would continue to do so… no matter the cost. If it meant that he would be forced to join a pack, then he would. The Sairensu male had always been bullheaded, but never so foolishly that he would risk his own life as well as the life of his only sibling. Change was a part of life. It was difficult for many others to grasp and accept, but Kierkegaard knew it well enough. He had suffered through many changes and had found himself on the better side after said hardship. While he was not a man of faith, he knew that he would have to greatly rely on his instinct to carry him through the decision ahead.
Drawing his lengthy ears forward, the ashen brute flicked his tongue against his lips with a furrow-browed and thoughtful expression. The questions that had been presented were just, called for, and Kierkegaard knew that he could not condemn the alpha for inquiring. It was fair enough to assume that the pallid loner had not entirely thought about how long he would remain in a pack. The decision to actively seek one out had only come around because of the injury that had been sustained to his leg. Without skills, he was a useless creature to accept into the ranks. Without the promise that he would pledge his life to the pack, and the intention to do so, it was not likely that the golden stranger would grant him access.
Finally, drawing his gaze upwards, Kierkegaard opted for the honest answers. “We would stay for however long we were needed,” he responded in a rumbling voice. It was a fair gesture; if the pack required they stay for years, his pledge would stand. If they needed his aid only through the rough patches that were to come in the colder months, then he would endure that time period and leave when he thought necessary. As for his skills, the loner was not entirely sure what he would offer that could benefit a larger group of wolves. “I am a skilled fighter. I would extend an offer of protection to you and your wolves.” He was capable of more, but his talents were more specific to smaller numbers. Kierkegaard was a survivalist; he knew how to take care of himself. It very well could have been his biggest fault.