08-14-2018, 06:44 PM
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Moon's been avoiding the Cleric's Hide. It's been so empty, lately, what with the whole lockdown scandal, and it's a horrible place to be when he's alone. The silence soaks into his fur and makes him feel cold and he'd never learned how to stare at inanimate objects and think about feelings and emotions and regrets. He doesn't cope well with thoughts rushing through his head and dragging him down, and it only ever leads to nights filled dreams more vivid than usual, so he doesn't stay there. He upsticks and gets the fuck out for the day.
He goes on border patrols and sits at the door of the Observatory, to shout through the iron in hopes they can hear him and spare him a moment to chat. That, or greet newcomers. In his current state, however, it's all more exhausting than he'd care to admit. So when the sun is slowly sinking on the horizon and his paws are starting to drag, he comes home to the Hide. Usually, he dreads the emptiness of it all, and the only thing that makes him return are the poppy seeds and their promise of some shuteye. Today, however, there's someone there.
"You serval fuckers don't get boundaries, do you?" He says, once he's startled slightly at the sight of the pure white creature in the corner. Fucking Isidore. "Caught red handed, again, Birch-stealer. I'm starting to think you're doing this for attention." Grumbles the lion as he carries himself towards the window sill, where he drops his make-shift bag from his neck, alongside some new herbs. He roots through his bag as he speaks, picks the keys to the closet up and settles them in plain, teasing sight as he slumps against the wall. He heaves a sigh, drags one paw down his face as he speaks. "So. How many poor, innocent Medics have you burgled before me, criminal?"
Moon's been avoiding the Cleric's Hide. It's been so empty, lately, what with the whole lockdown scandal, and it's a horrible place to be when he's alone. The silence soaks into his fur and makes him feel cold and he'd never learned how to stare at inanimate objects and think about feelings and emotions and regrets. He doesn't cope well with thoughts rushing through his head and dragging him down, and it only ever leads to nights filled dreams more vivid than usual, so he doesn't stay there. He upsticks and gets the fuck out for the day.
He goes on border patrols and sits at the door of the Observatory, to shout through the iron in hopes they can hear him and spare him a moment to chat. That, or greet newcomers. In his current state, however, it's all more exhausting than he'd care to admit. So when the sun is slowly sinking on the horizon and his paws are starting to drag, he comes home to the Hide. Usually, he dreads the emptiness of it all, and the only thing that makes him return are the poppy seeds and their promise of some shuteye. Today, however, there's someone there.
"You serval fuckers don't get boundaries, do you?" He says, once he's startled slightly at the sight of the pure white creature in the corner. Fucking Isidore. "Caught red handed, again, Birch-stealer. I'm starting to think you're doing this for attention." Grumbles the lion as he carries himself towards the window sill, where he drops his make-shift bag from his neck, alongside some new herbs. He roots through his bag as he speaks, picks the keys to the closet up and settles them in plain, teasing sight as he slumps against the wall. He heaves a sigh, drags one paw down his face as he speaks. "So. How many poor, innocent Medics have you burgled before me, criminal?"
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]