Hushed Willows black in the magic, beauty in the tragic
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Ooc — KJ
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#3
The atramentous sheepdog was sleeping so deeply that she did not respond in the slightest to the distant storm. The tender hollow of her flank rose and fell with the rhythmic whispering of the willows — a rare silverspot butterfly alighted upon one tufted ear — the soft pitter-patter of a squirrel paused briefly as it sailed up and over her tightly coiled framework, then continued on.

Wham!

The death knell of Aditya’s pride and Seelie’s REM sleep was probably more along the lines of thwup-whup-whup! She flipped over once or twice before coming to a stop in a huddled little heap — she’d “yelped” involuntarily upon impact, but it was lost in the frantic shuffle of her paws as she regained her footing. Tufted ears slicked back against her skull, swanlike neck curving low, presenting a distrustful mien — the bridge of her finely tapered muzzle wrinkled in a warning snarl, velveteen flews lifted just enough to reveal the very tips of her upper canines. For a moment, rocked by the feverish restlessness in her blood and the knowledge that she was here alone, she did not recognize her friend. He wheeled around, and she held her ground until at last he spoke.

“Adi,” she breathed, her expression softening and her carriage buckling as guilt assailed her. Feathered tail swept between her thighs, its tip beating nervously against her hocks as she ghosted forward to make amends — and then she remembered how worried she was about Catori and how upset Stockholm and Moorhen were going to be when they noticed she was missing.

“Catori,” she whined, lips trembling as she eagerly closed the distance between herself and the handsome golden-eyed male. “Safe?” Her voice, what little there was of it, died away in her throat as she noticed and fixated upon the white fur at his cheek where she had once placed a sooty pawprint. Delicately she outstretched her quivering muzzle, breathing deeply of his scent, and if he did not move away the tip of her coal-black nose would make soft, tentative contact.
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RE: black in the magic, beauty in the tragic - by Coelacanth - April 21, 2018, 07:45 PM