AESIOR OPHELES
✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go
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Returned the genuine smile to Vincent, legs shivering as he shook each limb out to stretch and prepare himself. Gaze turning to Arlo, he would blink faintly to him in returned greeting, inching closer to Vincent if only because his presence was a soothing balm to the memories that still rankled his mind.
Huffing a soft breath as he itched at his foreleg, ears flicking as he straightened from the momentary pause to nibble at the itch. Tail curling over his back, hiding another yawn with a turn of his head, though its force caused his pelt to tremble as he shook himself out. Giving a puff of breath, he would withdraw his notebook, scrawling within it as quickly as he could before approaching Arlo so he could read the questions writ within. What are we looking for insde inside? Can we keep stuff found? few his words, some scrawled out for written mistakes, we go in pairs?
Sitting back down, would he make a quick mental organization of his satchel, grateful he'd picked up some of his tools from his forge. If he was lucky, in the cave they would enter, he would find metals that could be used in his forge. His earrings were in sore need of repair and he had little source of gold to melt and fix them with. Well, he could pan the river for that, but that meant entering the water again. Shaking his head, he would look in his bag until satisfied, allowing the notebook to remain outside should he have more questions, pencil held gently in his jaws.
Huffing a soft breath as he itched at his foreleg, ears flicking as he straightened from the momentary pause to nibble at the itch. Tail curling over his back, hiding another yawn with a turn of his head, though its force caused his pelt to tremble as he shook himself out. Giving a puff of breath, he would withdraw his notebook, scrawling within it as quickly as he could before approaching Arlo so he could read the questions writ within. What are we looking for insde inside? Can we keep stuff found? few his words, some scrawled out for written mistakes, we go in pairs?
Sitting back down, would he make a quick mental organization of his satchel, grateful he'd picked up some of his tools from his forge. If he was lucky, in the cave they would enter, he would find metals that could be used in his forge. His earrings were in sore need of repair and he had little source of gold to melt and fix them with. Well, he could pan the river for that, but that meant entering the water again. Shaking his head, he would look in his bag until satisfied, allowing the notebook to remain outside should he have more questions, pencil held gently in his jaws.
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THE FLOWER BURNS