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( we could get in a stolen car / herb sorting ) - Grimm - 01-19-2021 [div style="margin: auto; max-width: 475px; padding: 5%; min-height: 20px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 17px;"]How had he ended up here, a question that looped through his mind when present a moment of respite. Known the reality of it all, his own desire that had rooted among the aching folds of a heart repaired ever poorly with accumulated scar tissue, a comfort sought where he was not allowed to seek it. Yet he had done so, a child still for all his bravado and words of faux courage, the whim of his wants holding taunt the reins. It was one thing to seek the one he had missed, refused to admit caused an initial response he may never speak of for he lacked the words to describe it, and being where he was now. Kind the treatment extended, though upon the opposing side when calamity struck and mistrusted for their change of heart he had been lacking, apparent still his status even as staunchly did he refuse to answer any questions. Among their numbers some knew of him, secondary their introduction but enough, his tight lipped denial useless when they already knew all they needed. Still protested against the treatment that was deemed necessary, the time alone leaving him near starved, dehydration a constant looming threat, his fall upon the tracks and swallowed mouthfuls of brine further complication. Too exhausted had he been for a fight beyond meagre push back, ignored as handing into the care of another. Wince adorned gaunt countenance as light spilled forth into the stone structure, permeated the air with the heavy tang of numerous herbs. Shallow and fitful any sleep he had been capable of thus far, the days blurring into one as b he slipped in and out, at times found himself enveloped in the fine strands of the one he had come for. Always away turned when the medic made his presence known, despised for this, though understood the tense manner he conducted himself, a waste of perfectly good material on a child that wished nothing to do with him. Still he worked, though noted his lack of presence now as Foam lifted his head, groggy and swimming as the world swayed. The hour seemed late, to check beyond his current ability and so among the scraggly moss he lounged, watched the opening for return. Despised may be the medic but company was better than this. On the hours dragged, taunt grown muscle, aching all as teeth ground together. About gaze moved, sought anything that may quell the choking presence that filled his throat, laboured breath punctured by strained noises. He could handle solitude, accustomed grown for his own choice had been it, but the addition of the wait, nothing to occupy his endless thoughts, beyond his capacity to handle. Disarray caught his attention, ruin left the stores, though evident prior attempts had been staged to bring some semblance of order. Difficult his rise, protest tightening muscles poorly treated in past days, shortened each breath. Prolonged the moments he merely stood, tight the closure of his eyes. Slow the first step, though it may be difficult to call it such, along stone floor paw sliding. Easier the next, though still motion was halting, tip of tongue held, the repetitive dig of points into the muscle keeping his focus. Sooner than expected the conclusion of his steps, harsh stone scraping against nose, strained the soft sound bypassing the brief part of his lips. Eyes opened and upwards they turned, giddy the grin that took hold. Further mess when before was the task he had deemed fitting of his time, such not discouraging, however, rather the opposite, fortified his conviction. Along the crevices paws roved, pulled out and moved various herbs. Never was the notion that such would cause confusion, side effects never pondered, quiet the broken, off tune hum that filled the air as his misguided work continued. Re: ( we could get in a stolen car / herb sorting ) - lovekit. - 01-19-2021 [align=center] YOU KNOW WHICH STARS BELONG,
In the back of his mind, Lovefool knew that Roan would have Foampaw's head for doing this. After all, the soothsayer had a very particular way of keeping the temple, all of his herbs tucked away in particular crannies, kept organized and safe. Even in the other's prolonged absence – brought on by circumstances Lo didn't even know of – Roan's presence was felt. The temple was, above all, his domain. Foam's constant visits into it often set Love as well as Roan on edge, the former worried about his friend being reprimanded while the latter despised the company. The siamese had never been a fan of visitors that weren't serious patients, with the only notable exception being Paintbrush. And Paintbrush, Foam was not. Instead, he was seen as simply a daily annoyance, the soothsayer moving smoothly around his presence in order to get on with his day without issue. Of course, that had been until Roan's presence had vanished entirely, the scent of the medic slowly fading from every corner of the temple – another thing that set Lo on edge.
As usual, Foam's presence was what drew Lovefool towards the temple, his dark paws slipping over cold stone floor as he looked around. He was immediately greeted with the scent of the other, but he didn't see Foam everywhere, causing him to call out softly, "Foampaw...? Are you in here?" Had the other decided to go out exploring? It didn't seem completely implausible, considering Foam seemed interested in The Typhoon's territory, much like Lovefool had been about the Glades's territory during his visit. However, the other usually saved his ventures out and about for when Lo could accompany him, and the young hybrid couldn't help but feel a bit hurt. Had Foam decided that he no longer needed Love alongside him? Had he finally realized that Lovefool was just as much of a disappointment as he had always thought he was? The swirl of new and unpleasant thoughts in his head drew Love forward, deeper into the temple and closer to where Foampaw's scent was the strongest. Eventually, Lovefool was able to track the other down, freezing in place when he saw the mess that Foam was gleefully creating. The careful wall of herbs so lovingly curated by Roan was in shambles already, reorganized and shuffled from where the soothsayer had intended for everything to be. Immediately Lo felt his ears pull back, a sense of dread settling in his heart. There was no way that Roan wasn't going to be furious once he got back. Love was quick to express this, words tumbling out of the hybrid's muzzle in a fit of anxiety, "Foam, what are you... stop! This is the herb supply for Roan and Rosemary! You shouldn't be touching it! Roan has a very particular way of doing things and if he comes back to find things all reorganized... not only will he claw my ears off, but he'll yell at you, too! Come on, let's just... put everything back where you found it, alright?" Love was quick to rush forward, trying to grab some of the things that he knew were out of place. However, as he inspected the wall, he found his sense of dread only growing. There was no way he could remember where all of this had gone before. YOU WEAR THEM ON YOUR FACE |