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A dark ear twitched and the soldier glanced at his presiding general. The timber wolf was larger than Victorian and surefooted, easily carving a path through the tall grasses to the dilapidated cottage. Victorian followed at the man's shoulder, conscientious of where he placed his paws and how closely he hovered. He needed to be close enough to provide support, yet not so clingy as to become a burden should a northern rebel leap from the bushes. Granted, none has been so foolhardy. Most seemed to have bent a knee to the crown, however bitterly. As they neared, he couldn't help but feel his belly rumble. Amber eyes widened and he found his muzzle being inexplicably drawn to the right. And, as he approached (straying from Kvothe's side), he realized why. A pheasant and a rabbit, both plump and still warm with the blood in their bodies, lingered nearby a crumbling doorway. In an instant, hunger gave way to anxiety and Victorian's gaze whipped back to his commanding officer. |
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As Kvothe stepped forward, Victorian stopped. He swallowed, nodded stiffly, then drifted to the left. Amber eyes uneasily skirted the surrounding underbrush. Mere moments before, it had all seemed so friendly. The rustle of the leaves had been born of the dancing wind, not faceless rebels that had yet to bend the knee. Although guerilla attacks had grown increasingly infrequent, Victorian had experience enough Highlander ire to know that few would accept a treaty of any kind... let alone one so shoddily made.
Victorian absently chewed on his lip. The slight pressure kept his mind focused while soothing his imagination before it ran too wild. It was possible that this was just a family exploring the castle and meandering about. Outside of wartime, the displaced foodstuffs would have struck him as perfectly ordinary. There was no need to be so... uncertain. And yet... "... Yes? What do you want?" A wolf's face became visible. Dark fur, blue eyes, and the rest swathed in shadow. The rest of her was concealed by the castle walls and his suspicions rose. What was she hiding? Were there others? Victorian glanced at Kvothe, eagerly awaiting his commanding officer's orders. |
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Rather than bristle and make demands, the Colonel adopted a more diplomatic approach. In fact, one could almost call it casual.
A conversational lilt stole Kvothe's every word and bathed it in hints of warmth and honey. It was as though he spoke of the weather or the local hunter's catch of the day. There was no indication of tension, no betrayal of discomfort or suspicion. Victorian did his best to try and mirror his Colonel but, alas, he had yet to adapt a facade so smooth and unbroken. His lips formed a neutral line (at least not a frown) and his eyes were largely unreadable. Occasionally, those golden irises would flit to Kvothe's face but, by and large, he stared at the woman, gaze drifting from paws to shoulders to face. He wanted to know, to find a crystal ball in her fur that would tell him if her intentions were pure. But alas, he had no fated ability for prophecy. He did have intuition, however, and the woman's icy demeanor did not defrost from Kvothe's kindness. If anything, she seemed to cling to brevity as if it was a lifeline in this sea of conversation. Despite himself, Victorian felt a nerve twang as her blunt attitude played against his patience. Nothing she said was overtly disrespectful and yet... Dark ears flicked in outright annoyance as she pointed her words at Kvothe as though her tongue wielded a sword. Still, Victorian remained silent. Well, almost silent. A huff escaped from him before he could tighten his teeth together. |
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