Sawtooth Spire you just wanna know those peanut butter vibes
All Welcome  March 25, 2020, 05:17 PM

backdated march 22nd

        command over her sight had not improved much, but as days went on she was more inclined to keep the blue of her eyes revealed so she could stare at the shapes of her brother and mother as either milled about the den. often she stopped playing and fell into a trance, gaze fixedly studying stirrings amidst the denmouth (a squirrel, chipmunk, the ever-watchful @Mahler) or nebulous shapes of insects skirring across her line of sight.
        presently, as one such shape, a sojourning yellow-jacket, tarried by, she quickly lurched forward and clapped her budding milkteeth with surprisingly accurate aim around the thing and held it in her mouth. 
        the wasp furiously droned and whirred and swarmed in its clammy stockade, a muffled sound that only @Wylla would be able to hear but it was the mouthfeel that phaedra thoroughly delighted in. it felt like the rumble she knew how to make in her throat, but in her mouth. at first she shuffled her feet excitedly, treading a measure back with surprise  … then grew stock-still, on the verge of tears as a stab of pain bit her tongue. the flesh of her gums was stung by the wrathful brute as well. 
        a distressed knot formed on her brow and her mouth yawned wide to shriek with the shock of it. immediately, the wasp darted out and, bestrewn with slobber, cast about on the ground before flying out into the midday sun. 
        phaedra wailed and crawled towards her mother, smacking her mouth dumbly as the stings smarted and her pugged nose began to swell.
March 28, 2020, 06:52 PM
        mahler had not been present to see the unfortunate choice of snack his daughter had made. he was, however, alerted by her squeal, and swept her up swiftly from her trajectory toward wylla. doktor in service, mahler inspected her with gentle nudgings, clucking his tongue in baritone rumbles over phaedra's predicament.
        outside the den was a stone with cool moss, and it was here he carried her, never bringing her out from beneath the motherly eye of his lover. settling phaedra near the pleasant shade of the wind-cut boulder, he lay down, hoping she would find the temperate surface to the liking of her stung mouth.
        and in lowering his head, he sought the milky blue of her eye, smiling despite himself to see that little phaedra had been granted a new and wonderful sense.

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