Softly biting my tongue, I kept myself from lying to him another time. Ignoring the urge to let him think I only identified as Helene Duskpaw when I do not.
While I am proud of my actual name and existence, for a short moment I had the impulse not to grant it to him. To any person who smelled like Kyrie had rolled around in wolf form with them… playfully or… otherwise.
As well as a contradictory desire to snap and claim things I shouldn't.
"I go by Citra."
I managed to say with some composure, though I have a feeling I'm scowling like I ate one of those terrible 'lemons' whole. Because these 'feelings'… are werewolf biology and the meddling of the Lunar Goddess.
After I answered, he began to climb up the slope with lithe ease… more than his upper body bulk implied would be possible. The blonde man stopped a respectful enough distance away - close enough for conversation, far enough not to be overtly threatening.
