It's Minglin' Time

[crittersheep]

WHO: You
WHERE: Anywhere
WHEN: Afternoon 62

[ With Bluebell's lovely morning rite, it's shaping up to be quite the peaceful day. The spring thaw continues, bringing young lilywogs with lingering stubby tails to the shores. It's easy to spot them floating among the reeds, though they're still prone to scattering if disturbed.

And across the pasture everyone is hopefully having a peaceful day, right? Or have some of you been getting up to shenanigans instead? ]

Comments

Re: late

[finalbows]

[ with some reflexive nervous flitting of his feathers at being handled while so, so so small ]

Re: late

[finalefantasy]

[her hold is shockingly gentle.]

You encountered grave mishap, indeed.

Re: late

[finalbows]

<sub>[ hearing those words, it's hard not to think about how it felt. too fast for anyone to really understand in the moment, but not fast enough to be without pain. but it's hurt every single time, so what really sticks out is the terrifying novelty of parts of his body attempting to conduct in unison that had gone simply absent--

but in between the pain of dying and deep indignity of his revival, there was something (nothing) else.

this time, Her Grace hadn't rejected him. he'd not experienced that void before, and--

I did. Overplayed our hands... seeking a trapped soul in the sea.
That dragon, he thinks. Told me my body got up on its own. ]</sub>

Re: late

[finalefantasy]

Seas are hungry places. This one took its bite.

[he'll see quite literal darkness overtake her eyes on a blink. on a second, they're back to their normal colourless grey.]

Aren't you growing tired, little dove-doll?