05-07-2018, 12:39 PM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt;"]Flame paints the sky a dull orange. Smoke permeates the air, polluting the lungs of everyone nearby. Someone wails, perhaps mourning the loss of something important, or the memory of something terrible. It’s bad. Wrong. Dangerous. All Imperia can think about is the chaos of a week before. Did the mass slaughter of her friends only happen a couple of days ago? It feels like ages since the Hart’s chest exploded in front of her, painting the albino female’s pristine pelt a dark crimson. Eons have passed since she darted over and around patches of flame consuming her home, leaping over the fallen bodies of her people. Animals, fae, and mystical creatures alike all fell. Fear propelled her into a sprint for her life. She did not even notice when the jaws on a hound clamped around her hind-leg. She kicked backwards on instinct and kept running. The adrenaline numbed everything. Every wound, every sight, every sound.
Peri shakes her head, chasing away the dark memories. Somewhere, there are people who need her help. She cannot allow the memory of fire and smoke to lead down a path from which she cannot return. The doe cannot carry water—it simply is not within her physical ability to grasp a container with enough capacity to do any good. However, she does possess some knowledge of healing in case anyone might require her assistance, so the lovely female slings a pack around her torso containing various tools of basic healing and races in the direction of the fire. ”Is everyone alright? What happened?” questions the fae as she bursts onto the scene, nimbly avoiding the assembled creatures with the characteristic grace of a deer. Immediately, she notices that the flames she detected earlier no longer burn, leaving behind a vacant landscape. Only the skeletons of the garden remain. How tragic, it must have been so beautiful.
Next, the girl notices that no one seems injured. Physically, at least. That is always a plus. However, it appears that Margaery has fainted for reasons unknown. Unable to resist the urge to care for someone in need, Imperia is drawn to the feline’s side. ”Is she alright?” the doe looks to Suiteheart, concern distorting her angelic visage. Large, argentium eyes shine as if she is close to tears. Peri knows that Margy is probably alright physically, and that all she needs is a bit of love and moral support from those close to her, but she needs to ask. It’s the right thing to do. ”Pehaps I can prepare a tea for when she wakes? To help soothe her?” it’s posed as a question, because even though Peri is sure that a nice calming tea will help, the anxiety that she might get something wrong or people will disagree cause her to take a position which will allow some sort of denial to her offer. She cannot be wrong if she does not claim to be right.
Her attention is redirected to Bastillepaw, whom she effectly overlooked at first amidst her own worry, by the rather harsh line of questioning from Roy. Or maybe it’s the way the wind whips across the courtyard, angrily tugging at fur. ”It was an accident,” reassures Imperia in a soft, yet firm, tone as she pushes herself up into a standing position. She gazes at Roy with conviction—she believes in her words. There is no way that Peri can know that the whole fiasco was an accident, but from based on Bastille’s obvious distress and frustration, her heart tells her that it must have been out of the poor boy’s control. ”Clearly he feels awful about it, so let’s skip the interrogation and focus on making sure that Margaery is alright.” Margy does not need to awake to people bickering and arguing. Furthermore, Imperia gets the sense that Bastille needs to calm down. The more worked up he gets, the more out of control his powers become. She offers the aforementioned male a reassuring smile. ”Do not beat yourself up too much. You can always make it up to her later.” Helping to replant, cleaning up the mess, repairing the damage. Once everyone has calmed, Imperia is sure that Bast can makes amends with Margaery, and work to repair the garden.
/ in class, sorry if this makes no sense
Peri shakes her head, chasing away the dark memories. Somewhere, there are people who need her help. She cannot allow the memory of fire and smoke to lead down a path from which she cannot return. The doe cannot carry water—it simply is not within her physical ability to grasp a container with enough capacity to do any good. However, she does possess some knowledge of healing in case anyone might require her assistance, so the lovely female slings a pack around her torso containing various tools of basic healing and races in the direction of the fire. ”Is everyone alright? What happened?” questions the fae as she bursts onto the scene, nimbly avoiding the assembled creatures with the characteristic grace of a deer. Immediately, she notices that the flames she detected earlier no longer burn, leaving behind a vacant landscape. Only the skeletons of the garden remain. How tragic, it must have been so beautiful.
Next, the girl notices that no one seems injured. Physically, at least. That is always a plus. However, it appears that Margaery has fainted for reasons unknown. Unable to resist the urge to care for someone in need, Imperia is drawn to the feline’s side. ”Is she alright?” the doe looks to Suiteheart, concern distorting her angelic visage. Large, argentium eyes shine as if she is close to tears. Peri knows that Margy is probably alright physically, and that all she needs is a bit of love and moral support from those close to her, but she needs to ask. It’s the right thing to do. ”Pehaps I can prepare a tea for when she wakes? To help soothe her?” it’s posed as a question, because even though Peri is sure that a nice calming tea will help, the anxiety that she might get something wrong or people will disagree cause her to take a position which will allow some sort of denial to her offer. She cannot be wrong if she does not claim to be right.
Her attention is redirected to Bastillepaw, whom she effectly overlooked at first amidst her own worry, by the rather harsh line of questioning from Roy. Or maybe it’s the way the wind whips across the courtyard, angrily tugging at fur. ”It was an accident,” reassures Imperia in a soft, yet firm, tone as she pushes herself up into a standing position. She gazes at Roy with conviction—she believes in her words. There is no way that Peri can know that the whole fiasco was an accident, but from based on Bastille’s obvious distress and frustration, her heart tells her that it must have been out of the poor boy’s control. ”Clearly he feels awful about it, so let’s skip the interrogation and focus on making sure that Margaery is alright.” Margy does not need to awake to people bickering and arguing. Furthermore, Imperia gets the sense that Bastille needs to calm down. The more worked up he gets, the more out of control his powers become. She offers the aforementioned male a reassuring smile. ”Do not beat yourself up too much. You can always make it up to her later.” Helping to replant, cleaning up the mess, repairing the damage. Once everyone has calmed, Imperia is sure that Bast can makes amends with Margaery, and work to repair the garden.
/ in class, sorry if this makes no sense