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Post by Namir Black on Nov 3, 2007 20:06:28 GMT -5
(heh heh. Sorry guys) Namir quickly sat down, and sat up straight in her chair. All of this extremely sleek and ornate style of living wasn't her style, but she'd bare it. She looked down at all of the silverware that was lined up infront of her in a bewildered manner, who knew they even made this many types of forks. A long time ago her mom had made her go through an etiquette class for her coming out ball, both of which she skipped. Observing Mikel picking up the smaller one she copied him, and started taking small bites of the salad. Mikel started talking and she tuned her ears to listen to him. He wanted to know their financial status? Her eyebrow raised, why should that matter? Namir didn't want to be a charity case, and part of her knew with deathly certainty that she didn't fit in here, not even to be a cleaning lady. To be polite, she bit her often rebellious tongue, and waited for Pete to take this one. She had a certain feeling that the invitation to stay was a little more for Arai than any of them, but who knew. We were new and didn't really have much of anything, or chose to give up what we had in order to better serve the pack.
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Post by Arai on Nov 3, 2007 20:18:21 GMT -5
Knowingly picking up the smallest fork, which was always the salad fork, Arai was glad to see that Namir followed suite. She smiled politely at the servers, thanking them without words. She was starving, literally, but she forced herself to eat properly, taking appropriate bites and a sip of water every once in a while. She listened intently as Mikel spoke, looking down at her plate. She felt his eyes on her during the last part of his speech, and she dismissed the attention easily. Arai had hardened up; she refused to accept any special attention. She knew Mikel was being polite, wanting the best for what he called his 'kindred'. A few hundred years? Arai couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Mikel was very old compared to them. Aside from Mikel, Arai knew she was the oldest lycan in the group. Pete was a few months behind her, and she suspected that Namir had just recently been turned. When he offered them a place to stay as long as they wished, Arai had to bite her tongue from shouting joyfully in a rather unladylike fashion. She had never dreamed that she might be offered the chance to stay in a palace such as this, especially with others who understood what it was like to be a werewolf. For now, she mulled it over, seeing how the others would take it. She sensed a slight animosity between the two boys; it would be most interesting to see how Pete responded.
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