Hoshor Plains suburban muse

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Are there roses here? I have not seen any. They smell like any other flower, dunno why you’d wanna sniff em’. Perhaps you should settle, and sniff the dandelions, instead. She chuffs, the metaphor entirely lost on her.

Envy rolled onto her back, forelimbs outstretched towards the sky, the massive blue expanse looked all the more giant, as they laid in the open fields. From this angle, it looked primed to swallow the land whole; and if she tilted her head a little, and angled her legs the right way, the clouds looked close enough to touch. She laid there contentedly upon this discovery, mashing the clouds between her paws. (Much akin to squishing the heads of others from afar, using only a pointer and a thumb.)

Now you are dead, and you are dead. She was on quite the rampage. Cloud killer. A tinge ironic, given the little nickname @Dreven had opted to give her. Did rainclouds kill the normal, fluffy clouds? Or did they just infect them? She did not know the intricacies of the cloud hierarchy. These thoughts were merely a place to rest the dreary boredom that engulfed her. She resisted the urge to gnaw on her own limbs a little. 

But flailing her legs at the sky and thinking of nonsense could only serve to entertain for so long. Bard sat in relative quiet, clearly beginning to drift off a little. 

Envy did not want him to do that.

And so, she would take matters into her own hands, flipping back over and bounding to her feet in hardly the time it took to take a breath. She’d resume her flippant circling, and prod his hind with a paw. You fallin’ asleep? It’s the middle of the day. She yips, and continues to prod him in the side.

Jab, jab, jab.



[size=1]Envy rolled o[/size]