[shadow=black,left]PAOLA VASQUEZ[/shadow]
[table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]I just wanna taste it; Watermelon sugar high!
Death. She can't exactly remember how much death she's seen in her lifetime, or lifetimes, but she can remember the most recent, the most fresh—the angry chants turning to frightened screams, the smell of burnt fur and flesh, the bittersweet tears that came as soon as the taste of vengeance had ebbed away. Flashes of their piles of bodies still haunt her dreams, pink skin and white bone and yells frozen in their death. She always wakes up after to remind herself that their agony had been deserved, but the more she says it, the guilter she feels.
The agonized screams make her feel even heavier, even though she knows it has nothing to do with her.
Paola follows the sound of grief until she stumbles across Devland, seated away from the house and giving them the space they likely need. Within the abode, the air sits heavy and thick, palpable in its taste of mourning, and she doesn't have the strength to interrupt it. She doesn't have the right to, either.
Instead, the she-cat sits beside her contemplative friend, offering him a brush of her tail but saying nothing. The family should be allowed the time to grieve.
She watches somberly from a distance, offering with her presence what words cannot... until the moment is shattered by a comment far too foul and cruel that Paola has to do a double-take to ensure she heard it right.
The she-cat springs to her paws at the sight of Roxanne lunging at the perpatrator, Aphra, panic prickling across her skin. "Devland," she whispers quietly, staring at the duo with a worried look before flashing her friend a questioning gaze. What should they do? What could they do? It's not the right time to pick a fight but, gods-be-damned, anyone who could say such horrible things deserves such a fate.
In the end, Paola decides to sit back down and leave the duo be—Roxanne has every right to lash out, after all. Moving closer to Devland, she settles and stares at the abode again, offering the grieving family her silent condolences.
[table][tr][td]The agonized screams make her feel even heavier, even though she knows it has nothing to do with her.
Paola follows the sound of grief until she stumbles across Devland, seated away from the house and giving them the space they likely need. Within the abode, the air sits heavy and thick, palpable in its taste of mourning, and she doesn't have the strength to interrupt it. She doesn't have the right to, either.
Instead, the she-cat sits beside her contemplative friend, offering him a brush of her tail but saying nothing. The family should be allowed the time to grieve.
She watches somberly from a distance, offering with her presence what words cannot... until the moment is shattered by a comment far too foul and cruel that Paola has to do a double-take to ensure she heard it right.
The she-cat springs to her paws at the sight of Roxanne lunging at the perpatrator, Aphra, panic prickling across her skin. "Devland," she whispers quietly, staring at the duo with a worried look before flashing her friend a questioning gaze. What should they do? What could they do? It's not the right time to pick a fight but, gods-be-damned, anyone who could say such horrible things deserves such a fate.
In the end, Paola decides to sit back down and leave the duo be—Roxanne has every right to lash out, after all. Moving closer to Devland, she settles and stares at the abode again, offering the grieving family her silent condolences.
10 MOONS
[/td][td]BETA
[/td][td]TYPHOON
[/td][td]SHE/HER
[/td][td]© AUDACITY
[/td][/tr][/table] BABY'S GOT A FACE LIKE THUNDER: