- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- Online Availability
- I have Thursdays off between two jobs. I am usually available on Wednesdays and Sundays, too. I will usually respond in the evenings, if I can, on the days I work.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Romance, Medieval, Futuristic, Apocalyptic, Sci-Fi, Modern, Action, Adventure, some High-Fantasy, Lord of the Rings, Pacific Rim, King Arthur, anything Game of Thrones-esque
Warren hummed slightly in acknowledgement of her words, but didn't truly reply to them, merely listening. It was something he did rather well and something that had followed him since he was a child - listening. He'd barely spoken that first year he'd been with Cleo, but after four more, she was the only one who COULD get him to talk more openly and usually about nothing at all. Perhaps that was why he'd trusted her enough to talk at all.
Now the werewolf spoke to whomever he chose without fear or hesitation, but most knew him to be quiet, abnormally so. Always listening and observing. Rarely speaking. Those who knew him would be astonished to know there was one person who could get more than a debriefing out of him.
"Expectation to be something else. Lack of opportunity. Lack of desire. Perhaps it just never occurred to you to try." he answered absentmindedly to her last question, but his attention was caught on one of her drawings. A wolf on a forest background. It was simple, not a werewolf of course, but Warren found himself touching the canvas with his fingertips anyway, feeling something tighten in his chest before he let his hand drop and took a step back before remembering where he was and turning his actions into a turn that took him back to the couch. The blond half-flopped into the cushions and tried to shake the nostalgia from his mind.
His gray eyes met Cleo's brown and Warren's softened just a bit. "Jethan would be proud of you, C.B.. I know he would."
He and Jethan had never been close like Cleo and Warren were, but the werewolf had at least thought Cleo's brother was a decent guy and he'd had no problems with him. And he knew Cleo missed her brother more than she would ever say or could ever say.
Now the werewolf spoke to whomever he chose without fear or hesitation, but most knew him to be quiet, abnormally so. Always listening and observing. Rarely speaking. Those who knew him would be astonished to know there was one person who could get more than a debriefing out of him.
"Expectation to be something else. Lack of opportunity. Lack of desire. Perhaps it just never occurred to you to try." he answered absentmindedly to her last question, but his attention was caught on one of her drawings. A wolf on a forest background. It was simple, not a werewolf of course, but Warren found himself touching the canvas with his fingertips anyway, feeling something tighten in his chest before he let his hand drop and took a step back before remembering where he was and turning his actions into a turn that took him back to the couch. The blond half-flopped into the cushions and tried to shake the nostalgia from his mind.
His gray eyes met Cleo's brown and Warren's softened just a bit. "Jethan would be proud of you, C.B.. I know he would."
He and Jethan had never been close like Cleo and Warren were, but the werewolf had at least thought Cleo's brother was a decent guy and he'd had no problems with him. And he knew Cleo missed her brother more than she would ever say or could ever say.
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