12-18-2019, 12:15 PM
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]I'LL COME BACK WHEN YOU CALL ME
Grief. The state of being became familiar early in her life without her entirely realizing it. The loss of her mother and brother haunted her. The flames. The ash in the air, coating the grass like snow. The little vixen knew a little something like grief.
Denial first and foremost. Young and learning, Aine possessed little understanding of death. When someone died, they were 'gone'. Lost. Missing. Her attentive ears picked up other phrases over the moons; passed, moved on. None of this truly sat well with her. If someone was lost, they could be found. Simple.
So the little druid never truly accepted someone's 'gone'-ness as permanent. Yet everyone acted as it was. Like... Defeat. She didn't like the feeling of defeat and everyone acted so defeated about it. When they buried Kydobi in the ground... Defeat. She didn't get it.
It made her stomach twist in knots and her chest tighten.
He couldn't come back to them buried under the ground. Didn't they know that?
Anger. No, they didn't seem to because they did it anyway and his absence haunted her. It was not right. He was her friend and he was gone and she hated it.
'I can send for Aine-' The druid's ears perked. The soot colored paws she dragged halted. Alert. A spark in listless hazel hues. If her da was thinking of sending for her, it must be important to her. "Da?" Her head turned. And she faltered.
Her vision began to blur. Chest squeezing. Uncertain. Furious -- she'd been right, hadn't she? "Mist-mister Kydobi?"
She's crying then, stumbling over and about to press her face in the jaguar's chest when she thinks twice. He didn't look entirely okay. Instead she shuffles into her father, too sad-happy to think much of how she's probably soaking his fur with tears. Her voice is muffled but fierce, "I-I knew it. I knew it."
[/td][/tr][/table]Denial first and foremost. Young and learning, Aine possessed little understanding of death. When someone died, they were 'gone'. Lost. Missing. Her attentive ears picked up other phrases over the moons; passed, moved on. None of this truly sat well with her. If someone was lost, they could be found. Simple.
So the little druid never truly accepted someone's 'gone'-ness as permanent. Yet everyone acted as it was. Like... Defeat. She didn't like the feeling of defeat and everyone acted so defeated about it. When they buried Kydobi in the ground... Defeat. She didn't get it.
It made her stomach twist in knots and her chest tighten.
He couldn't come back to them buried under the ground. Didn't they know that?
Anger. No, they didn't seem to because they did it anyway and his absence haunted her. It was not right. He was her friend and he was gone and she hated it.
'I can send for Aine-' The druid's ears perked. The soot colored paws she dragged halted. Alert. A spark in listless hazel hues. If her da was thinking of sending for her, it must be important to her. "Da?" Her head turned. And she faltered.
Her vision began to blur. Chest squeezing. Uncertain. Furious -- she'd been right, hadn't she? "Mist-mister Kydobi?"
She's crying then, stumbling over and about to press her face in the jaguar's chest when she thinks twice. He didn't look entirely okay. Instead she shuffles into her father, too sad-happy to think much of how she's probably soaking his fur with tears. Her voice is muffled but fierce, "I-I knew it. I knew it."
© MADI
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AINE CHARLOTTE NÍ BROIN - THE PITT - 10 MOONS - RED DEER-FOX
[div style="font-size: 12px; padding-top: 175px; padding-right: 30px; padding-left: 5px; color: white; text-align: left; text-transform: uppercase"]I come & scour
desert flower
the land for the