“Here, rat, rat, rat,” you grumble as you walk down the beach, the sounds of rolling waves crashing along side of you. On most days, they are soothing. Today, they just remind you of the turmoil that boils in your heart. How dare they name Rose Red general, give her a title that she has done nothing to earn, while you are expected to stand below her and follow her. She's weak, she's useless and you hardly ever saw her present. And what of you? You bled, you sweated, you toiled and trained and for what? For nothing. You stand among the others as unrecognized as any of them, expected to work alongside of them in some tournament, vying for a position that should already be yours? And for what? A game of chance? You think not. You scream, a reverberating whinny that crashes through the air.
“Here, RAT, RAT, RAT,” you call louder this time, wondering if she will hear you over the turbulence of the waters. If you had to pick a place to have a secret meeting- and you did- this is the place to do it. With the winds blowing and the waves crashing, nobody will be able to hear your words unless they are right next to you. And certainly whatever it is that happens here is not going to be common knowledge, you will make sure to that. You only hope that you have not misjudged the rat, and that her hatred of the Lesbians is as strong as your own. It wouldn't do to give your plans to the wrong woman.
@[Confutatis]
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post