11-05-2018, 06:43 PM
Last week, his entire daily schedule had been spent by sleepily dawdling around Sunhaven’s camp, occasionally eavesdropping on conversations, and every now and then effortlessly helping out with the workload; other than that, he’d essentially taken a week off from living, and hit the snooze button. It was very relaxing indeed, a vacation which the hound had desperately needed, though his aimless loungig around had caused him to miss out on some events, like that popsicle social, and the rescue-raid for Delilah. The latter pained him so, not only for the fact that Leroy felt guilty about saving his friend, but also disregarded an opportunity to give the Pitt a good slugging.
The mongrel continued, the mess which already existed in his hut made even worse by those gagged up ghosties, when he had heard the faint, voice of a stranger suppressed by the building’s walls, followed by Delilah’s. An accent which sounded... exotic, even more so than any dialect which crossed his ears whilst slumbering yonder in Sunhaven. An oaken door creaked open, and out exited Leroy, cravingly prowling the sooty earth towards the source of this foreign disturbance. His homestead found itself near the outer rim of the housing area in the territory, ultimately obliging his presence a usual one for joiners or visitors; hence, in barely any time at all, the tall canine had made the scene. He encroached beside the vibrantly-pelted feline, whom was often a nervous wreck and, no offence to her, an unsuitable figure for a first impression. Tanglers were strong, built people, capable of surviving; such an influence could not be found in a blind amputee equipped with a wobbly emotional complex. Perhaps, Leroy could restore the situation with his patented moxie.
"I’m sure we can find someone ta fix that li’l accent of yers," he’d begin, ironically teasing the foreigner on his present intonation, a trait which he, too, had been been guilty of. [color=#b2b2b2][b]”And, worry not, f’r there’s a bounty of worms ta be found here, we’re kinda in a swamp right now (though they’d probably be mutated or something). Oh, and I’m Leroy.”
The mongrel continued, the mess which already existed in his hut made even worse by those gagged up ghosties, when he had heard the faint, voice of a stranger suppressed by the building’s walls, followed by Delilah’s. An accent which sounded... exotic, even more so than any dialect which crossed his ears whilst slumbering yonder in Sunhaven. An oaken door creaked open, and out exited Leroy, cravingly prowling the sooty earth towards the source of this foreign disturbance. His homestead found itself near the outer rim of the housing area in the territory, ultimately obliging his presence a usual one for joiners or visitors; hence, in barely any time at all, the tall canine had made the scene. He encroached beside the vibrantly-pelted feline, whom was often a nervous wreck and, no offence to her, an unsuitable figure for a first impression. Tanglers were strong, built people, capable of surviving; such an influence could not be found in a blind amputee equipped with a wobbly emotional complex. Perhaps, Leroy could restore the situation with his patented moxie.
"I’m sure we can find someone ta fix that li’l accent of yers," he’d begin, ironically teasing the foreigner on his present intonation, a trait which he, too, had been been guilty of. [color=#b2b2b2][b]”And, worry not, f’r there’s a bounty of worms ta be found here, we’re kinda in a swamp right now (though they’d probably be mutated or something). Oh, and I’m Leroy.”