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02-14-2015, 06:20 PM
Fig
It seemed that many others had felt little inclined to brave the heavy humidity either – the meadow beyond the God and his boat was brimming with noise and activity. Fig regarded them quietly from afar, taking a moment with Laedere alone and revelling in the peace and (almost) quiet. There were not many things to collect for the most recent task that did not involve the mutilation of the flora. Wearily she turned a blind eye to the packs around her, stripping writhing trees of their limbs, shredding their bodies of cover, and found herself leading nearer to the water’s edge. Long whiskers danced down to brush the babbling surface, and she glanced around the muddy embankment with a plan forming in mind. “Mud might be handy to have, do you think?” she asked smoothly, warmth spilling both vocally and in the manner of her stance as she glanced towards her friend. “Paste it over my roots – thickly so that a surface crust might protect the moisture below.” When she had been lathered thoroughly, Fig turned back to return with her pale-coated companion to deliver the material as requested. |
