HYMN FOR THE BROS + sHP/HP Meeting

[fulzanin]

WE'LL MAKE A WAY WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR PLACE
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Amidst a sea of level headed and experienced persons, Feza knew she was an incredibly sore thumb. She threw parties, she was vivid and expressive and childish. A meeting that detailed such serious topics? It surprised her - not that she truly should have been surprised. She wasn’t like the Proxy, or the Sawbone, or the medics, or the soon to be promoted Guardsman that would be Kaz. Her vibrant pelt has outcasted her before. Such serious topics never crossed her mind until she now was being forced to think of them. Nervously kneading her paws and her blue gaze lowered, Feza briefly wondered if she should have tried to skip the meeting. Her feathered wings twitch, taking a brief moment to sort out her voice. “W-why’d you have to,” the snow leopard asks, her voice falling and motion of a paw jaggedly raising to make the motion of an injury going from her shoulder to her chest taking the place of words. Why did the hyena have to be injured? Wouldn’t stern words have been enough? What did she know? Nothing other than parties, her mind returns. She doesn’t even know the person that will be equal to her in ranking all that well. Her icy gaze remains focused downwards. This was not festive. Feza decided that she’d be far better off accepting it early. Meetings weren’t festive. Exile wasn’t festive. A sore thumb it would be.

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THE EMPTY CHAIRS WILL BE RESERVED FOR OUR PITY