The puppy pile was quiet tonight — and distinctly lacking one of its flaxen components. Foxglove had crept away from her sisters, grumpy in the aftermath of being rudely woken by @Dahlia's foot in her face. She wasn't sure where Mama and Dusty Rose were. Not here, though, which wasn't too unusual. Just inconvenient.
In lieu of comfort, Fox opted for revenge. She tugged a pelt up over Dahlia's head, scooting her butt beneath the fur simultaneously to unleash a silent but deadly fart. Then she dropped the pelt and scurried away.
In lieu of comfort, Fox opted for revenge. She tugged a pelt up over Dahlia's head, scooting her butt beneath the fur simultaneously to unleash a silent but deadly fart. Then she dropped the pelt and scurried away.
May 26, 2024, 01:35 PM
ever since foxglove had showed her up in front of the whole world, she couldn't stand the thought of being wrong. she had known in that moment that foxglove had done the right thing. the sociable thing. so dahlia began to associate being ladylike with being right. and being gross wasn't ladylike.
that was why this kind of behavior made dahlia so upset. foxglove knew just how to get under her skin, knew just the thing that would set her on edge. she wheeled around, hot-faced, only to find her sister's shadow.
wasn't she always standing there? if she were older, she might find some irony in it.
dahlia cried unusually little for a child. she didn't cry when she was caught being mean to her sister, and the weight of her mother's disappointment sizzled inside her guts. she didn't cry when she scraped her shins or when she was hungry. it wasn't that she hid her tears like mommy, but it was just that the tears wouldn't come. even when they should. even when she wanted them to. it would be useful to cry on command.
but all of a sudden, something broke loose. she was so full up with rage that it boiled over her cheeks. she bit her lip and muffled herself.
she wanted to curl up on the ground and disappear, but she had never wrestled defeat from foxglove, so she couldn't. she wanted to tear foxglove apart. she wanted to pin her down and bite at her soft parts until she cried out for mercy. but she wouldn't. she would just cry for their mom. whether she had started this or not, it would become her fault.
in that moment, dahlia realized that fox was smarter than she was. she was better at manipulating; she could get away with everything that dahlia couldn't. dahlia considered herself above "calling for mom". she wanted to solve her own problems. she wanted — she wanted to make momma proud.
fresh tears spilled out. she didn't know what to do with them. do with herself. she was above calling for mom. but suddenly, with mom was where she wanted to be.
quiet, now.
thoughtlessly, she stalked slow after foxglove's shadow.
that was why this kind of behavior made dahlia so upset. foxglove knew just how to get under her skin, knew just the thing that would set her on edge. she wheeled around, hot-faced, only to find her sister's shadow.
wasn't she always standing there? if she were older, she might find some irony in it.
dahlia cried unusually little for a child. she didn't cry when she was caught being mean to her sister, and the weight of her mother's disappointment sizzled inside her guts. she didn't cry when she scraped her shins or when she was hungry. it wasn't that she hid her tears like mommy, but it was just that the tears wouldn't come. even when they should. even when she wanted them to. it would be useful to cry on command.
but all of a sudden, something broke loose. she was so full up with rage that it boiled over her cheeks. she bit her lip and muffled herself.
mmhic
mmmhhff
she wanted to curl up on the ground and disappear, but she had never wrestled defeat from foxglove, so she couldn't. she wanted to tear foxglove apart. she wanted to pin her down and bite at her soft parts until she cried out for mercy. but she wouldn't. she would just cry for their mom. whether she had started this or not, it would become her fault.
in that moment, dahlia realized that fox was smarter than she was. she was better at manipulating; she could get away with everything that dahlia couldn't. dahlia considered herself above "calling for mom". she wanted to solve her own problems. she wanted — she wanted to make momma proud.
fresh tears spilled out. she didn't know what to do with them. do with herself. she was above calling for mom. but suddenly, with mom was where she wanted to be.
quiet, now.
thoughtlessly, she stalked slow after foxglove's shadow.
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