( Here he comes, glory that is fresh bathed and dried beast of fur and tooth and claw, wearing a dapper tie as if it demarcates his purported domesticity, his safety. Licyn knows the language of dogs as it pertains to people, and so his progress is simple with the wags of his tail that no wolf would give so readily, the ease of his body posture, the way he tries to make himself smaller, nonthreatening, even though by merit of his simple size he's nothing of the sort. Narrow chested, however, leaves him lankier instead of the kind of robust that sends people trembling, and he's quick to move, scenting the air as he goes.
Not trying to track much, aside from familiar scents, such as — yes, there, he knows that one. Hermione, who lets herself be fussed into allowing a furry bed crasher (no matter that it was the once, that she ever did settles in his memory) and a door.
A door he sits prettily at, overwhelmingly large for a wolf in any space, let alone the confined corridor of the hall in the sleeping cabins area, and he paws, delicately, at the door. Nudges it with his nose. Figures out a way to flick his paw forward, knocking with his nails. )
action | on train
Not trying to track much, aside from familiar scents, such as — yes, there, he knows that one. Hermione, who lets herself be fussed into allowing a furry bed crasher (no matter that it was the once, that she ever did settles in his memory) and a door.
A door he sits prettily at, overwhelmingly large for a wolf in any space, let alone the confined corridor of the hall in the sleeping cabins area, and he paws, delicately, at the door. Nudges it with his nose. Figures out a way to flick his paw forward, knocking with his nails. )