[ Behind his mask, John's brows furrow (he thinks; knows the way it impacts his vision, knows what it looks like, doesn't know if he possesses the structure to replicate it). ]
A wolf?
[ His arms shift in his sleeves, and there's a movement that doesn't seem quite right, like more is within them until suddenly there isn't. John presses a thumb against the palm of his right hand as his arms slip apart, only to direct his mask towards it for a breath he doesn't take. ]
No. For the wind—a wanderer, like you claim to be. Sharp and biting as the north wind is.
no subject
A wolf?
[ His arms shift in his sleeves, and there's a movement that doesn't seem quite right, like more is within them until suddenly there isn't. John presses a thumb against the palm of his right hand as his arms slip apart, only to direct his mask towards it for a breath he doesn't take. ]
No. For the wind—a wanderer, like you claim to be. Sharp and biting as the north wind is.