Blackfeather Woods ticking away the moments that make up a dull day

relmyna’s nightcub was given little choice in the matter of her participation. she was hauled upright, unused to such urgent or rough handling — somehow the bitter taste that scalded her tongue was less insulting to the girl than Maegi’s sudden handling of her. 

a queasiness overcame Astara as she mutely followed after Maegi’s searching form. she had spat most of the plant from her mouth, yet all the same a malaise snuck into her stomach and lined her throat. 

a plant was flung in front of her; Astara glanced up from her pity party and regarded the coarse yellow roots and her sister warily. the last plant she had ingested tasted terrible; with a snobbish air Astara declined her sister’s ministrations, sticking her muzzle straight up in the air in childish refusal.  

full PP permission given!