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+---- Thread: Boartusk Heights wild roses (/showthread.php?tid=61790)
wild roses - Diego - June 18, 2024
There were others here, not big like the ghost, but small and milk-scented, like him.
He had glimpsed them, once, when he should have been in his own den again. He'd been ushered back, but not before seeing a tiny face mewl from the darkness.
Diego neared the den again on quiet steps - as quiet as a child could be. Snuffling his puppy snout around the corner of the denmouth until murkwater eyes blinked against the shadows of the hollow.
Would any eyes blink back?
RE: wild roses - Nymphora - June 18, 2024
ehehe snatch
Spurned from another fight for milk, Nymphora had instead begun to focus on, well, focusing. Bright blue eyes contrasted deeply against her peachy hide and ink-splattered face as they tried to adjust to the shadowed world around her. What was once blurry, faded shapes with no semblence of anything earthly became just that little bit easier to really see. Her mother's face, for one, restful and quiet, save for the hushed breaths that cast a soft wind from her nose.
Nymphora rolled to the outermost side, mostly to get away from Valeria and her feisty kicking, but perhaps also to fulfil a newborn sense of adventure. There was another shape standing at the foot of the cavern, and she crooned her little head over to try and make it out in the darkness. She had no thoughts. No sense of danger, nor sense of friendliness. She simply continued to blink and stare.
How interesting the world was, when you could finally see—partially see, at least.
RE: wild roses - Vincent - June 19, 2024
Sleepy, calm, and with a belly full of milk, Vincent lay sprawled against the warmth of his mother's side, stretched out horizontally and taking up as much space as his little form could. Despite being the only male of the litter, he was not blessed with a size that allowed him to gain the upper hand against his den mates. Despite this, he tried his best to bat away his pesky siblings and always have a front row seat at the proverbial dinner table; and currently, he was sleeping off his most recent success.
That was until he groggily creaked open one eye and saw a pale sister staring intently at something outside the den. His own sight had improved greatly since a few days ago, but he still could not make out much from any further than a few feet from his nose.
He rolled to his stomach, regarding first Nymphora, before clumsily lifting his head and trying to focus on the interloper who lurked just outside.