Phantom Hollow her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film

Despite having sprung ahead in terms of early development, it was his speech that remained withheld. Venamis breathed no words for anyone, not even the suggestion of one, instead relying on body language to communicate with those around him. He would stare quietly and coolly at his parents each time they encouraged him, before he swiftly tired of their efforts and turned away.

He certainly was a stubborn child.

The dark spiderling was lounging in the evening sunlight, roughly preening the downy obsidian furs at @Zan's throat (which he only really did for an opportunity to nip at the tender flesh beneath). Just as he tensed, preparing to deliver the bite that was sure to rouse the aggression he hoped for, the croon of an adult distracted him entirely.

Ears lifted in surprise, Ven abandoned his mischief-making and gathered to his paws. With an excited yip he trotted forth with a happily wagging tail to greet their visitor, but his attention was quick to turn toward the prize that lay at her feet. Venamis eyed it possessively, reaching out to fix it firmly between his fangs before any wicked sibling could steal it from him.