03-05-2019, 05:08 PM
As much as he longed to idle here in the sun and snow, Isaac promptly stirred from his momentary rest. There was work to do, after all. Lounging about and soaking up warmth he couldn't possibly retain would benefit his research as well as a second death. Albeit a minor hinderance for him, it was a devastating blow to his schedule.
Heaving himself up onto tired feet, the old doctor took the opportunity to stretch, dropping down into a bow and arching his back while his beaked mask concealed a yawn. Lord, he had grown stiff over the years spent hunched over his studies. Shaking out his pelt as best he could from beneath his heavy uniform, empty glass eyes turned to greet an expected visitor. Of course. Living creatures were always so precautious when they didn't need to be, yet blinded by adrenaline when they were in danger. A quite fascinating phenomenon. Mask tilting downward to give the appearance of a coy smile, Isaac simply inquired, "Pardon? I'm afraid I did not quite catch what you said." On the assumption she demanded his identity, the cloaked hound tipped his wide-brimmed hat towards her and introduced himself out of habit. "However, you may call me whatever you prefer, miss, but most use Isaac." A gloved paw reached out, offering a handshake before it withdrew upon realizing his mistake. Swallowing a cough, the plague doctor's head inclined to the left, a question of his own sounding through his herb-stuffed beak. "Now, who is it that I have the pleasure of meeting? As well as you, my good sir."
A second wolf joined the first, one of different coloration and, furthermore, species, yet Isaac remained as polite as one could with features shielded from the world's prying eyes. Perhaps he had stumbled upon a pack's territory. Tundra seemed to be a suitable habitat for wolves, yet the exotic physique of West compared to a native grey wolf challenged his theory. Nevertheless, the diseased hound smiled despite their inability to receive the pleasantry, sure to keep his posture as congenial and harmless as possible.
[align=center]☤Heaving himself up onto tired feet, the old doctor took the opportunity to stretch, dropping down into a bow and arching his back while his beaked mask concealed a yawn. Lord, he had grown stiff over the years spent hunched over his studies. Shaking out his pelt as best he could from beneath his heavy uniform, empty glass eyes turned to greet an expected visitor. Of course. Living creatures were always so precautious when they didn't need to be, yet blinded by adrenaline when they were in danger. A quite fascinating phenomenon. Mask tilting downward to give the appearance of a coy smile, Isaac simply inquired, "Pardon? I'm afraid I did not quite catch what you said." On the assumption she demanded his identity, the cloaked hound tipped his wide-brimmed hat towards her and introduced himself out of habit. "However, you may call me whatever you prefer, miss, but most use Isaac." A gloved paw reached out, offering a handshake before it withdrew upon realizing his mistake. Swallowing a cough, the plague doctor's head inclined to the left, a question of his own sounding through his herb-stuffed beak. "Now, who is it that I have the pleasure of meeting? As well as you, my good sir."
A second wolf joined the first, one of different coloration and, furthermore, species, yet Isaac remained as polite as one could with features shielded from the world's prying eyes. Perhaps he had stumbled upon a pack's territory. Tundra seemed to be a suitable habitat for wolves, yet the exotic physique of West compared to a native grey wolf challenged his theory. Nevertheless, the diseased hound smiled despite their inability to receive the pleasantry, sure to keep his posture as congenial and harmless as possible.