.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
02-10-2017, 11:45 AM
Яikyn So, I’d liked the raccoon at first, at least until the chocolate-high dumbass opened his mouth. Instantly delighted and amused that the raccoon chooses to speak to him, rather than me, my cerndyr’s mind fills with warmth, and laughter, his forest green eyes gleaming, and his lips curling into a smile. Though he often joked with me that he was by far the more responsible and wisdomed of the two of us, despite his youth, the fact that this stranger ignores me for my wordless companion is of utmost hilarity to the proud deer-creature. So, when the creature even gestures to me, and calls me Duir’s companion, my bond-mate laughs aloud, an abrasive (as all his sounds are) guffaw, unbefitting of his graceful appearance. My ears tilt back in offense, a scowl crossing my lips as I glare over at my buck with intense, golden eyes. He ignores me. Nodding at the raccoon, without even consulting me, the alleged mount in this endeavor (the very idea horrifying, despicable… wrong), my ivy laden buck turns his gold-flecked gaze to my hatefully narrowed one. Go on then, he tells me, my mind pressed with the idea of kneeling, so that the gluttonous little idiot can clamber onto my back. My ears are at one with my dark hair now, their so far back. No, I retort, at first, a stubborn and flat refusal, you carry him, if you care so much. Gesturing to my metal plating, and the convenient metal entwined, black rope (handle, Duir insists) attaching it to me. Literally grumbling, still entirely too annoyed by the entire situation, I slowly, and begrudgingly, drop down onto my knees, my fine ass mooning the sky. "Whatever," I bemoan, turning back at the chocolate covered raccoon with what I hope is a successfully warning glare, "you scratch me, I start bucking. Got it?" Looking back at my buck, who is smugly watching the entire situation unfold, I snort. "How far away is the center of the labyrinth, anyway?" I ask no one in particular, wondering if either of the two buffoons with me would actually know (forgetting, of course, that I don’t either). there's no place to hide down here |
