Dawnlark Plains a bird in the hand is worth a lotte in the bush

I wrote replies to all of Lotte and Coelacanth’s threads this morning and my computer ate every single one of them.
Hence, this will suck and I have no will to make it better. I am sorry. ♥ x__x;

Despite the multifaceted way Lotte was accustomed to looking at and interacting with the world, at her core she was a young girl and easily charmed. Her bold spirit and natural playfulness set flirtation readily within her reach, and she had used that flirtation to disarm and to infiltrate as befit her role. Still, she was no stranger to honest attraction — a fact that would have made Dagfinn roll his wintry eyes in weary agreement, for it was his ears into which she whispered all of her imaginings. Arturo was ever-present for Lotte in the way that Amber was for Grayday, but the girl saw no harm in hunkering down beside the thickly-furred wolf and peering through the bough of branches at his apparent overlords. He complimented her, and a ripple of a giggle spilled from her lips as his deep timbre tickled the fur of her small, triangular ears. She warmed to his good humor with an impish smile.

At this close proximity, she could see the cloudiness of his eyes — coinlike slivers of rime filmed the burnt umber beneath — but the spark of roguish mischief therein could not be denied. She reasoned that he could see well enough if he could make out the birds and kept her thoughts to herself, feeling it would be rude to make his oddity a topic of conversation. “Should I take orders of a lowly omega?” she asked in a mock-affronted whisper, her argent eyes widening as if the very thought of it was deplorable. “You do not know me, herra. I happen to be none other than Pörröinen Tassut Kuningatar — a ruler from a faraway land — and I think you ought to stage a kapina against your betters. Who are they to rule you so?”