04-05-2021, 02:49 AM
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[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px"]HOW DO YOU RUN FROM Y[color=#5d8e93]OUR OWN MIND?
On edge. The petite deer-fox was often on edge. Her mind rarely quiet. Often jumpy. Prone to spirals. Moments of uncontrolled, frantic thoughts. Lately, she had simply been tense. The actions of Jormungand, the arrival of the Coalition and Tanglewood, had nearly pushed her over the edge. Truly, she rarely felt as much rage as she did when Romulus told her of the panther's actions. Violent thoughts creeping within her mind.
Paced the length of the white temple twice. The inside practically a flourishing greenhouse, due to her power's responding to the wrath she felt following Dante's earlier actions. Yet it did little to soothe her. She needed to do something. Before she completely snapped or lost it.
Part of her wanted to concave. Lock herself away. Block out all the noise. Both in and out. Shut down. But that got her no where. That got no one absolutely nowhere. So she looked for something, anything. Hazel hues darting over the flowers surrounding her, something clicking into place.
Easter. Her mother used to decorate the house with flowers. Her father painted eggs. Felt like forever ago. Nearly two years. She breathed out softly. A basket procured. Hooves carrying her outside. The weather warm enough. Soil less frozen. Safe to use her abilities. Grow a small patch of flowers. To gently gather and pick. Safely tucked into the basket.
Noise. The marketplace had a buzz to it. But the deer-fox trotted into the clearing, found a seat in the sun and set her basket down. If flowers fancied anyone's interest, she'd offer. Until then, she would sit. Letting the sun rest on her fur. Trying to find a stable place of mind. Focus on the noise for once, rather than her thoughts.
[/td][/tr][/table]Paced the length of the white temple twice. The inside practically a flourishing greenhouse, due to her power's responding to the wrath she felt following Dante's earlier actions. Yet it did little to soothe her. She needed to do something. Before she completely snapped or lost it.
Part of her wanted to concave. Lock herself away. Block out all the noise. Both in and out. Shut down. But that got her no where. That got no one absolutely nowhere. So she looked for something, anything. Hazel hues darting over the flowers surrounding her, something clicking into place.
Easter. Her mother used to decorate the house with flowers. Her father painted eggs. Felt like forever ago. Nearly two years. She breathed out softly. A basket procured. Hooves carrying her outside. The weather warm enough. Soil less frozen. Safe to use her abilities. Grow a small patch of flowers. To gently gather and pick. Safely tucked into the basket.
Noise. The marketplace had a buzz to it. But the deer-fox trotted into the clearing, found a seat in the sun and set her basket down. If flowers fancied anyone's interest, she'd offer. Until then, she would sit. Letting the sun rest on her fur. Trying to find a stable place of mind. Focus on the noise for once, rather than her thoughts.
© 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