Nova Peak If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up above
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Ooc — Chelsie
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Flowers were remarkable things. The cloying scent went largely unnoticed by Wylla, as did the fact they made her nose-blind as a day old whelp. She passed by Phaedra's hiding place without seeing or smelling her daughter, which was testament to just how distracted she was. The recent buoyancy in her step could be mistaken for relief that they were out from under danger's thumb, but there was more to it than that. For the first time in ages, she felt almost happy.

Never fully, and never all the time; a piece of her remained in the Sunspires where she'd left her son. That hole ached the most in the afternoons. She remembered having to nose Thade awake on many occasions, discouraging the boy from sleeping too late, but he'd always grumbled and groused and clapped his paws over his eyes. Eyes whose final colour she didn't even know. His absence would always be felt. At times, she thought she saw his ghost skimming the rain clouds and her heart shuddered in her breast. Her eyes still filled with tears now and again; guilt nibbled at the edges of her psyche most days.

But for the first time in ages, she allowed herself to be happy. That was enough to blind her to Phaedra, so the shriek from behind was unexpected and unwelcome. Wylla's guard hairs spiked along her back at the same time she jumped, hind end rocketing up to eclipse her shoulders and tail squirreling away between her thighs. No amount of agility in whirling around would mask the reaction from her impish daughter's sights. The fireweed fell to the ground as her face contorted into a snarl, but it faded when recognition filtered past the alarm.

What the fuuuuuuu-uh-lying foxes are you doing! she cried, amending her curse last minute and delivering it through a broad wolf's grin to try to hide her exasperation. She was reminded suddenly of a much younger Tiercel, before anger built and burst between them, and another nail—whore—pinged in her heart, sending a wave of unwanted pain through her.
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RE: If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up above - by Wylla - August 11, 2020, 01:10 AM