01-20-2021, 04:25 AM
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]HOW DO YOU RUN FROM Y[color=#5d8e93]OUR OWN MIND?
Antsy. The petite deer-fox had been antsy. Restless. Trying to wait patiently for friends and family to return from bloodings often failed with her. Required distractions. Busywork while she worried. She hadn't truly managed with Trygve... Ran off after him... Part of her longed to dive into the desert after Saintkit too.
He'd recovered. Built up strength. He was doing well. Extremely well. A real daring spirit. She was happy, unable to hide the sense of affection and pride she felt with him. Doting, like a mother would. The fleshweaver couldn't help it. And the desert had gotten cold... Anything could go wrong. What if it stormed again? What if there wasn't enough food?
Aine chewed the inside of her cheek. Her wings shuffled dejectedly at her sides. She tended to her herbs in the white temple now. Where they were safer from any freak weather. Important work. Important work, but it dissipated in her mind the second she heard his voice. "Saintkit!"
The druid turned on her heels immediately, hazel hues bright with relief. Scanning quickly and quietly for any sign of injury. He looked okay. "Y-you'll have to talk with the blacksmiths," she beamed. "Get armor sized for you..."
Aine did not care for hunting. An omnivore, but herbivore by choice. Still. She felt proud. Happy. He was safe and he'd proven himself a worthy match to the desert. Still. She furrowed her brows. "D-did you eat okay? Are you hungry? Are you hurting anywhere?"
[/td][/tr][/table]He'd recovered. Built up strength. He was doing well. Extremely well. A real daring spirit. She was happy, unable to hide the sense of affection and pride she felt with him. Doting, like a mother would. The fleshweaver couldn't help it. And the desert had gotten cold... Anything could go wrong. What if it stormed again? What if there wasn't enough food?
Aine chewed the inside of her cheek. Her wings shuffled dejectedly at her sides. She tended to her herbs in the white temple now. Where they were safer from any freak weather. Important work. Important work, but it dissipated in her mind the second she heard his voice. "Saintkit!"
The druid turned on her heels immediately, hazel hues bright with relief. Scanning quickly and quietly for any sign of injury. He looked okay. "Y-you'll have to talk with the blacksmiths," she beamed. "Get armor sized for you..."
Aine did not care for hunting. An omnivore, but herbivore by choice. Still. She felt proud. Happy. He was safe and he'd proven himself a worthy match to the desert. Still. She furrowed her brows. "D-did you eat okay? Are you hungry? Are you hurting anywhere?"
© 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