09-02-2020, 06:48 PM
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]I'LL C[color=#36829c]OME BACK WHEN YOU CALL ME
The tree. Aine recalled its appearance. Didn't entirely want to go. All the lights in the sky... All of the groups... But her father was going. Her father. She didn't want him to go alone. Not when so many hated them...
The petite deer-fox crept up quietly behind her father, hazel hues darting and zipping around the gathered with antsy energy. Never staying still. The wings at her sides shuffled, ears flattening at the Tangler in particular.
Always Tanglewood. She bit the inside of her cheek. Smoke. Flames. Slightly abrupt, she pressed her flank against her father's in a seek for comfort. Four. . . Seven. . . Eight. . .
Vale earned a frown from the little Fleshweaver. Personal space meant a great deal to the druid. It was rude to ignore it like that. "Thi-this isn't for fun," she muttered irritably. This was certainly not her idea of fun. Besides... Her father had made it very clear they weren't coming to antagonize anyone.
Did no one listen? ... He meant it. Aine knew him well enough to know. Disobedience wouldn't be taken lightly. Not in an already tense setting.
She shuffled her hooves, slowly taking a seat, sticking as close to her father as she could. Four. . . Seven. . . Eight. . .
[/td][/tr][/table]The petite deer-fox crept up quietly behind her father, hazel hues darting and zipping around the gathered with antsy energy. Never staying still. The wings at her sides shuffled, ears flattening at the Tangler in particular.
Always Tanglewood. She bit the inside of her cheek. Smoke. Flames. Slightly abrupt, she pressed her flank against her father's in a seek for comfort. Four. . . Seven. . . Eight. . .
Vale earned a frown from the little Fleshweaver. Personal space meant a great deal to the druid. It was rude to ignore it like that. "Thi-this isn't for fun," she muttered irritably. This was certainly not her idea of fun. Besides... Her father had made it very clear they weren't coming to antagonize anyone.
Did no one listen? ... He meant it. Aine knew him well enough to know. Disobedience wouldn't be taken lightly. Not in an already tense setting.
She shuffled her hooves, slowly taking a seat, sticking as close to her father as she could. Four. . . Seven. . . Eight. . .
© 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