07-22-2018, 04:33 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]For as large as the clan is, word still travels fast. It does not take long for Imperia to hear news of someone's passing, though the information is not thorough enough to inform her of who exactly had passed. But who died does not matter much to the she-wolf, for she is going to go pay her respects regardless. It is the right thing to do. She drifts through the plains like a ghost, small paws making nary a sound as she moves with the grace of a deer. She arrives shortly after Washington, having spotted his hulking figure making haste through the grasses so she had decided to speed up. And that's when she sees Carolina there, motionless. It saddens her to see such a sight, even when the more logical part of her brain recognizes that the fiery femme died of her injuries. Did Imperia not warn Carolina of that just the other day? Her eyes start to water, but she resists. Washington begins to say something, but he chokes back a sob instead. "Je suis désolé, mon ami," she says, feeling that the consolation sounds better, more emotional, in french rather than the common tongue. Tentatively, she reaches out a paw to comfort her friend, unsure if he would welcome the touch or not. But she can sense that he is not alright, and she is compelled to try and soothe him.