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+--- Thread: Qeya River concert roar (/showthread.php?tid=50686)
concert roar - Sakhmet - March 27, 2022
For once, she desired space.
Hesitantly creeping towards the mouth of the den before she emerged from it. Weight slowly stabilizing post birth, muscles hardly at their peak. She enjoyed the flex of them and the way the outside world shined upon her.
Despite all of the love that had rooted in her heart, there was a trickle of loneliness unable to be filled.
Still she thought of what her mother would say, to see her two sons. Still she wondered if Kukutux would have wise words for her new motherhood. Even thoughts of Lane and her possible motherhood!
A sudden silence in her thoughts.
Silver eyes squinted, as she glanced around the clearing. It is quiet, despite the subtle cries of babes in the background. She may have birthed the roots of the village, but it hardly appeared that way when one looked upon the river.
RE: concert roar - Blue - March 30, 2022
lemme know if this doesn't work, borders logistics wise :) tags for ref
@Bronco was never far off, but sometimes Blueberry wandered a bit, lost in her own thoughts. It was one of these times that brought her to a river, flowing down from the icy mountains. She came to the bank and drank thirstily, the cold both abrasive and soothing down her throat.
After a few moments, she looked up, chin dripping, to see a russet shadow, some ways away.
Her nostrils flared. There were wolf-scents here, but she didn't think them enough to be a pack. Still, she bristled a bit to see a stranger, automatically wary. Kept her composure for the most part, though, and lifted herself to a standing position, watching the. . .woman. She thought, anyway.
RE: concert roar - Sakhmet - April 06, 2022
so sorry! was out of town ;;
A ghost.
Her heart clutched to see the pales of fur in her vision. Had her thoughts taken root? Was she looking upon the silken figure of Kukutux? The milkweed of her own mother?
But her mother was more distinct in shape, twisted by time and worn by stories.
Sakhmet had seen this figure before, long ago when it had been smaller and crowded by her — their — mother. She did not know this was blood before her, she did not know who this was before her.
But the north had whispered tales of Melonii to her before, hadn't they? Fire fur with indigo eyes came to mind.
She was defensive, of course, but curious as well.
Smelling of milk and earth, she tiptoed closer on lean limbs. The woman was taller but they were that same lean build.
Hello,Hesitant but friendly. Not yet wielding any kind of sword.