10-24-2018, 09:31 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]"This a bad time for a joke about dinner?"
Several lengths away, partially obscured by brilliantly hued trees and naked branches, stands a rather short woman. Wild curls as orange and red as the autumn leaves tumble over her shoulders, highlighting a faint smattering of freckles across her pale skin. Charlotte gazes down at the youth with a tender expression, lips twitching in the fight to resist the insensitive jokes racing through her mind. Willpower wins in the end, thankfully; Harland looks like the sort of kid she can make cry. She has never claimed to have anything but a shitty sense of humor. "'Twas awful sweet of ya to save the lil' guy." the woman steps closer, brittle leaves crunching beneath the soles of her leather boots. "Mos' people wouldn't'a."
Crunching footsteps falter; Charlotte hesitates in her approach. A frown tugs at supple lips, drawing attention to the single freckle which mars the chapped pink flesh. She isn't sure how to be delicate, much less brave the treacherous realm that is handling children. "We, uh, we should pro'lly take 'im to a vet. Or a rescue." Who knows what might have been damaged in the rabbit's frantic attempt to escape the snare? Charlie certainly doesn't. But a person with knowledge of animal anatomy and an x-ray might. Those are pretty useful. "M'name's Charlie, by the way."
Several lengths away, partially obscured by brilliantly hued trees and naked branches, stands a rather short woman. Wild curls as orange and red as the autumn leaves tumble over her shoulders, highlighting a faint smattering of freckles across her pale skin. Charlotte gazes down at the youth with a tender expression, lips twitching in the fight to resist the insensitive jokes racing through her mind. Willpower wins in the end, thankfully; Harland looks like the sort of kid she can make cry. She has never claimed to have anything but a shitty sense of humor. "'Twas awful sweet of ya to save the lil' guy." the woman steps closer, brittle leaves crunching beneath the soles of her leather boots. "Mos' people wouldn't'a."
Crunching footsteps falter; Charlotte hesitates in her approach. A frown tugs at supple lips, drawing attention to the single freckle which mars the chapped pink flesh. She isn't sure how to be delicate, much less brave the treacherous realm that is handling children. "We, uh, we should pro'lly take 'im to a vet. Or a rescue." Who knows what might have been damaged in the rabbit's frantic attempt to escape the snare? Charlie certainly doesn't. But a person with knowledge of animal anatomy and an x-ray might. Those are pretty useful. "M'name's Charlie, by the way."
[align=center][div style="font-size:17pt;line-height:1.1;color:#FF5721;font-family:georgia"][i]it's not the waking, it's the rising
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[ CHARLOTTE MIKAELSON-FOLIE | VAMPIRE | THE ASCENDANTS | INFO ]
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[ CHARLOTTE MIKAELSON-FOLIE | VAMPIRE | THE ASCENDANTS | INFO ]