Sawtooth Spire the frog king, or iron heinrich

yes, yes, @Thade did enjoy expressing himself in regards to their father's provisionings. expressing his hardships so very histrionically. so ... loudly. he was surfeited with mother's milk, that much was evident, or at the very least preferred regurgitated fare more. not to get any facts wrong—the moment either caregiver returned from the surreptitious realm of wayward parents, phaedra was right there with her brother, tail awhir and throat awhimper seeking alms with beseeching purls of her tongue.

but when father was truant, the girl was happy to monopolize any milk surplussed to current requirements, and weaning her of this habit wouldn't come easy for wylla. phaebae liked nursing, it was a creature comfort and soporific and maybe just a teeny weeny little addiction, and the growing child was constantly crowding under her mother's waist to drain her teats.  

unlike thade, she didn't lean on their windowledge like a wartime bride awaiting her conscript's return, anxiously toing and froing by candlelight for a miracle. it wasn't a terribly lucrative application of her time. or thade's, for that matter.

no, playing with sisters, said sister thought, is a much better thing to be doing and she was about to remind him of this factuality when The Man, The Myth, The Legend himself arrived home. phaedra clapped her mouth shut, definitely not about to stir up some roughhousing or anything by putting tails in vices. nothing like that.

her whiplash tail a whirlwind, phaedra leapt over the hedge that was thade in a clumsy bascule in the race to greet her papa. she hooked her knobby legs around his stocky one and lofted herself up to supplant the underside of his chin with boisterous licks and root her pale nose against his riffled gums, making tiny urgent noises deep in her throat.