growth

Blanc did not pause, but a smile met her lips as she turned back and noted the mischievous grin. Blanc was many things, and she took after her grandfather in respect to his adoration of the opposite gender. She was young, and thus felt no pull within her loins, but the stimulation of the mind was enough for her. They were lovely to look at, and fun to beat in any way possible. How mysterious, she responds lowly, and strides forward. His name is exotic, different, certainly not from the immediate area. She enjoyed the assumption that she had been correct, and as she moves, searches, she repeats his name in a low hum, Viinturuth, and her tail sways to insist that it was a pleasure to meet him.

And then she realizes she has not introduced herself, and she looks to him. I am Blanc, she introduces, noting him beside her then and throwing him a sidelong glance. Your name, she says, thoughtful as her eyes glance to the canopy above them, Does it have any meaning? Surely if it did, it was more creative than her own, white; but her mother was french, and her father uncreative; she had been a number before she had been given her name, and it had always been more of a nickname. Her mothers colombe blanc, white dove.