Northwestern edge of Neverwinter Forest. For family, please. ♥
“And when she woke up, it was winter.”
The voice that spoke was light and low, hesitant but not precisely shy, and curiously robotic. Eirlys Dagny Fearghal sat at the forest’s edge and looked broodingly over the pastureland to the northwest without moving, one mitted paw lifted in absent indecision. For weeks now, she had recognized within herself the one thing she’d grown to detest above all else: wanderlust.
Wandering, a colossally reckless pastime, had cost the thickset eight month old her mother, her father, her older sister, and two littermates. Impatiently, she squelched the itch in her paws for what felt like the umpteenth time, very deliberately placing her raised paw beside its mate.
“And when she opened her eyes, it was winter.”
Did that sound better or worse? Eirlys’ rounded features — etched, unbeknownst to her, in her deceased mother’s likeness — pinched in an expression that could have been indigestion but was more likely to be thoughtfulness. Down two siblings meant more food for her and Ceallach — whose sharper, more streamlined [read: prettier] bone structure mocked her on the daily — and digestion had become one of Eirlys’ greatest skills. Arturo’s whisper of coyote blood and Lotte’s natural athleticism had saved their daughter from being truly fat, but a veterinarian would have to press a little harder to locate the scalloped gradient of her ribs. Add the Ansbjørn fluff to this unfortunate equation, and, well, let’s just say Eirlys had been ready for winter since summer.
It wasn’t that she minded. If you asked her, Eirlys’d tell you: she didn’t mind anything. The snowdrop had coped with the heavy handfuls of trauma she’d been dealt by becoming increasingly stoic; it was tidier that way. Though she lacked her mother’s penchant for manipulating her own thoughts and feelings to suit her situation, she found a certain comfort in the drab mire she’d immersed herself in. She was gentle and even maternal with @Droman and @Reed, and she still managed to be affectionate and sweet when it came to @Ceallach and @Hemlock — but there was a haze over Eirlys’ world as fine and insulated as her vanilla blossom fur.
The voice that spoke was light and low, hesitant but not precisely shy, and curiously robotic. Eirlys Dagny Fearghal sat at the forest’s edge and looked broodingly over the pastureland to the northwest without moving, one mitted paw lifted in absent indecision. For weeks now, she had recognized within herself the one thing she’d grown to detest above all else: wanderlust.
Wandering, a colossally reckless pastime, had cost the thickset eight month old her mother, her father, her older sister, and two littermates. Impatiently, she squelched the itch in her paws for what felt like the umpteenth time, very deliberately placing her raised paw beside its mate.
“And when she opened her eyes, it was winter.”
Did that sound better or worse? Eirlys’ rounded features — etched, unbeknownst to her, in her deceased mother’s likeness — pinched in an expression that could have been indigestion but was more likely to be thoughtfulness. Down two siblings meant more food for her and Ceallach — whose sharper, more streamlined [read: prettier] bone structure mocked her on the daily — and digestion had become one of Eirlys’ greatest skills. Arturo’s whisper of coyote blood and Lotte’s natural athleticism had saved their daughter from being truly fat, but a veterinarian would have to press a little harder to locate the scalloped gradient of her ribs. Add the Ansbjørn fluff to this unfortunate equation, and, well, let’s just say Eirlys had been ready for winter since summer.
It wasn’t that she minded. If you asked her, Eirlys’d tell you: she didn’t mind anything. The snowdrop had coped with the heavy handfuls of trauma she’d been dealt by becoming increasingly stoic; it was tidier that way. Though she lacked her mother’s penchant for manipulating her own thoughts and feelings to suit her situation, she found a certain comfort in the drab mire she’d immersed herself in. She was gentle and even maternal with @Droman and @Reed, and she still managed to be affectionate and sweet when it came to @Ceallach and @Hemlock — but there was a haze over Eirlys’ world as fine and insulated as her vanilla blossom fur.
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Messages In This Thread
and — it was winter - by Eirlys - December 27, 2017, 11:57 PM
RE: and — it was winter - by Hemlock - December 28, 2017, 02:22 AM
RE: and — it was winter - by Reed Wolf - December 30, 2017, 11:37 PM
RE: and — it was winter - by Eirlys - January 07, 2018, 12:32 AM
RE: and — it was winter - by Hemlock - February 11, 2018, 10:09 PM
RE: and — it was winter - by Eirlys - March 02, 2018, 03:23 PM