12-27-2018, 04:05 AM
―――― //for lack of better idea of what to title this thread also excuse my late night brain
Face it, the Pitt had no friends. They had quite the many enemies, and a few others that they simply let be since they caused no issue, but whatever the scenario, supplies were always needed. Be it poison to contaminate the Roseblood's water supply, or a large stockpile of wood to make effigies, or maybe even a nice home-made basket of muffins, just to mess with them, the Pitt not only needed to be able to think on their feet and take no crap, but also be able to dish out equal parts deadly and baffling scenarios for their "dear" friends. So, while Rhiannon had originally set out to gather herbs for herself, Cosette, and in some part Nina, her basket of herbs now sat neatly off to one side while the white-furred feline now took to weaving small, doll-like figures out of spare strands of desert shrubbery. Next to her, a few small bowls of paint. Whether they were red, or bright pink, Rhiannon wasn't sure, but either way, she had to assume that it would work for their purposes. With the last of her dolls being dipped, this time into an odd mingled shade of green and black, she set it aside to dry, almost cheerfully humming as she nonchalantly, and perhaps a bit creepily, wove these tiny voodoo-like dolls with the utmost glee, the scene equally inviting as it was almost terrifying.
Face it, the Pitt had no friends. They had quite the many enemies, and a few others that they simply let be since they caused no issue, but whatever the scenario, supplies were always needed. Be it poison to contaminate the Roseblood's water supply, or a large stockpile of wood to make effigies, or maybe even a nice home-made basket of muffins, just to mess with them, the Pitt not only needed to be able to think on their feet and take no crap, but also be able to dish out equal parts deadly and baffling scenarios for their "dear" friends. So, while Rhiannon had originally set out to gather herbs for herself, Cosette, and in some part Nina, her basket of herbs now sat neatly off to one side while the white-furred feline now took to weaving small, doll-like figures out of spare strands of desert shrubbery. Next to her, a few small bowls of paint. Whether they were red, or bright pink, Rhiannon wasn't sure, but either way, she had to assume that it would work for their purposes. With the last of her dolls being dipped, this time into an odd mingled shade of green and black, she set it aside to dry, almost cheerfully humming as she nonchalantly, and perhaps a bit creepily, wove these tiny voodoo-like dolls with the utmost glee, the scene equally inviting as it was almost terrifying.
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we know nothing in reality