Snippet #2560989

Oreron and Owsla Hall

The larger male huffed in reply is ember reprimanded the male for what ever reason. Just the suggestion of playing a game seemed to infuriate ember, making him keep a mental note for later. He backed off, attempting to calm himself with the scent of cooking stew as he felt the presence of Owsla behind him, already scooping out stew for herself and champ. She bent down and the knees to pet the canine and set the bowl down in front of him. "That's a good boy~ Yes you are!" She cooded to the shepard, lavishing all sorts of attention onto the canid like a mother to a baby.

Oreron rolled his eyes, knowing that his daughter had always been fond of large preditory animals; she would often treat war hounds as personal pets.

Something that one should usually do in times like these.

"Since you are with ember, I suppose you are welcome to a meal while you're here." The aged general said with some relucance. He didn't trust the male in the least. But the least he could do was ignore the male for the time being. It would keep him from killing the man for the moment.

He lumbered out to the living room, trying to calm himself as he looked around looking for traces of the tyrant boy andthe girl again. "FOOD'S UP! GET IT WHILE IT'S HOT AND HERE!" He bellowed, nearly rummnling the house where it stood. He couldn't stand stragglers with it came to meals.

---

As Oreron lumbered away as if he were not used to walking on two legs, Owsla turned her attention toward the royal haired male at the table. Her uncovered eye glinted at him as she started walking around him in curiosity like a feline inpecting a new toy. "What'cha gonna do to champ?" She purred in curiosity, though her reviled eye glinted with malaceful mischif and slight madness. "And what'cha do to make fatha' angry? You must stink of war to make him react that way."