Northstar Vale Psémata

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xoxoxoxoxo

Reyson spoke—and with each word, her brows would lift higher, her anxiety spiking with each syllable at whatever shenanigans had happened while she had been holed up in this den. Two of her favorite boys were not only at odds—it looked as if a full on battle could have erupted between them.

Despite what Reyson said, Meadow itched to pull Antigone closer—not because she did not trust what the soldier had spoke, but because there had to be something deeper to this—and she tentatively lifted a paw to touch at his shoulder, reaching to him, to see if he was okay.

And before she could make a quiet request that perhaps Reyson give them a moment, Antigone spat—and the words that came from him were positively venomous and she gasped, her paw falling to the ground instead and her shocked eyes flitting to the tawny Nomos.

Antigone told her she deserved better and he stalked away—the backside of a teenager all she saw now before he was gone. She trembled—she blinked back the tears of shock and upset—what in the world? Her eyes were sharp upon Reyson, and she moved toward him, ignoring the pain that flared in her side. Her muzzle sought his, kisses planted to his cheeks—“Are you okay? What…. What the fuck, was that, Reyson?” The small implosion of her word selection—flabbergasted.