09-08-2018, 12:31 PM
[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width: 55%; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: 0px;"]A recent sickness prevented Imperia from getting out and about. It was not so much debilitating as she was concerned about spreading her virus to her patients. But the worst of it has passed and Peri is more than eager to get back into the swing of things. She does not do well being trapped in one place. Her heart longs to wander, to see the sights and enjoy the beauty of the world. As comforting as the cleric's hide can be, it is not where the she-wolf belongs.
Muted pawsteps subtly announce the arrival of another at the border; golden tendrils of grass whispering and dancing as the creature nimbly navigates the terrain. A brief moment of silence and then--a slender muzzles appears first, followed shortly thereafter by a pair of brilliant sterling steel eyes and a petite frame covered in a thick layer of silky grey fur. In comparison to the jaw-droppingly gorgeous cheetah, Imperia's beauty is of a simpler breed. Those large, doll-like eyes shine with an unusual sort of kindness and she carries herself as if unbothered by all the worries of the world. A faint aroma of lavender and citrus clings to her starshine pelt, though the scent is overpowered by the herbs which she carries with her in a leather satchel; the material worn from months of use.
"Bonjour," greets the halo in a gentle voice that is barely more than a whisper. "I can take care of your injury for you, mademoiselle." It is her job, of course. A pale silver gaze flickers over briefly to inspect the male who she has yet to meet before returning to the female before her. "My name is Imperia Arceneau. What is yours?" Although this stranger does not seem to be too upset about her wound, Peri finds that most people fare better when distracted by easy questions. The lovely she-wolf retrieves a cloth, some bandages, and a poultice to put upon the wound so it does not get infected before looking up at the unnamed cheetah. "Are you ready?" Peri would prefer if the female did not shriek and run away, so she decides to warn her.
Muted pawsteps subtly announce the arrival of another at the border; golden tendrils of grass whispering and dancing as the creature nimbly navigates the terrain. A brief moment of silence and then--a slender muzzles appears first, followed shortly thereafter by a pair of brilliant sterling steel eyes and a petite frame covered in a thick layer of silky grey fur. In comparison to the jaw-droppingly gorgeous cheetah, Imperia's beauty is of a simpler breed. Those large, doll-like eyes shine with an unusual sort of kindness and she carries herself as if unbothered by all the worries of the world. A faint aroma of lavender and citrus clings to her starshine pelt, though the scent is overpowered by the herbs which she carries with her in a leather satchel; the material worn from months of use.
"Bonjour," greets the halo in a gentle voice that is barely more than a whisper. "I can take care of your injury for you, mademoiselle." It is her job, of course. A pale silver gaze flickers over briefly to inspect the male who she has yet to meet before returning to the female before her. "My name is Imperia Arceneau. What is yours?" Although this stranger does not seem to be too upset about her wound, Peri finds that most people fare better when distracted by easy questions. The lovely she-wolf retrieves a cloth, some bandages, and a poultice to put upon the wound so it does not get infected before looking up at the unnamed cheetah. "Are you ready?" Peri would prefer if the female did not shriek and run away, so she decides to warn her.