writing letters addressed to the fire
780 Posts
Ooc — Chan
Seer
—
Offline
BRÖTHER!
Ariadne was determined to make the best of the dreary day. It was drizzling and the sky was monotone in its coloring; there was no sunshine and happiness today.
Today, she wanted to check in on the Three Sisters today, as the wind had come and gone, and she was sure the lavender petals had scattered in the storm. With their guests still staying with them, and with her new sisters among them, she wanted to make sure their meeting place was tidy and presentable enough for when they shared stories next.
Ariadne stepped carefully past the healing dens, making sure her standing was sure and that she didn't get too much mud on her paws. She already knew that she'd need a bath after all of this cleaning, but she would do her best to keep herself as clean as she could.
Today, she wanted to check in on the Three Sisters today, as the wind had come and gone, and she was sure the lavender petals had scattered in the storm. With their guests still staying with them, and with her new sisters among them, she wanted to make sure their meeting place was tidy and presentable enough for when they shared stories next.
Ariadne stepped carefully past the healing dens, making sure her standing was sure and that she didn't get too much mud on her paws. She already knew that she'd need a bath after all of this cleaning, but she would do her best to keep herself as clean as she could.
July 12, 2022, 09:43 AM
Stratos, on the other hand, barged through the misty day like a drowned cat.
Fresh mud caked the little hunter and a scowl soured his usual cheery face. His fur sodden from more than just the drizzle of rain.
He trudged towards a drier place while his eyes sought out someone he could complain to.
That’s when he saw Ariadne.
“Weasel is not the only trickster,” he bemoaned as he drew near his poised and pretty sister. A wild contrast to his wet and sullen self. He said no more then, simply sank to the ground and hoped she would do something to cater to his misery and broken pride.
Fresh mud caked the little hunter and a scowl soured his usual cheery face. His fur sodden from more than just the drizzle of rain.
He trudged towards a drier place while his eyes sought out someone he could complain to.
That’s when he saw Ariadne.
“Weasel is not the only trickster,” he bemoaned as he drew near his poised and pretty sister. A wild contrast to his wet and sullen self. He said no more then, simply sank to the ground and hoped she would do something to cater to his misery and broken pride.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »