LET MY PEOPLE GO / typhoon visit

[Jervis]

SELF-ENTITLED

Well. That was a pleasure to hear. A short and sweet letter for a short and sweet vulpine. Jervis seemed pleased with himself, but the reality was soon going to slap him across the face. He reached out, clasping the letter between his claws and pulling it closer to him. Before he opened it, Goldenluxury pointed out something dearly concerning. Jervis’ nose raised to the sky and sniffed deliriously. At first thought, it seemed as if it was a mere festivity of his clan. Then came what was next.

The twang of the familiar leader met his ears. His words were filled with fiery passion and coated in venomous intent. Then what the phrase met hit him. His haunches raised. The world around him came clear and the hint of smoke reached his nose, alerting him of further danger. There was no time to prepare. Feelings of demise rushed through him but he powered through it, beginning to slowly back away from the two leaders that encircles him. ”And how have I slipped up?” he crooned towards Crow. His question was not delirious. Jervis was asking how he messed up, not implying that he didn’t know what has happened. ”Was it the slaves running to your border, pleading for forgiveness?” A laugh faltered through him. ”Or did I slip up?” There was no way. His peak performance shouldn’t of failed. Yet here he was. The holy ardent was slipping backwards towards his groupmates, hoping for their saving. Where had he gone wrong?

As Goldenluxury continued, Jervis tried to play along. If he could persuade her once, why couldn’t he do it again? His confidence, though suffering currently, was still present. ”Perhaps,” he continued further, ”We could sort something out?” There seemed to be no option nevertheless.

The leader, realizing there was no turning back, let out a demanding yell. ”PITTIA-“ But his words fell silent as the lightning struck below. Jervis scrambled back further. ’Fuck.’

//mobile, apologies

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