the Rift


Woo Me

Kitty Posts: 10
Up For Adoption atk: 5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 6.0
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.3 hh :: 7 HP: 62.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Adoptable
#1
K itty

Kitty sleeps with one red eye open so that when the dawn breaks he's the first one to see it. He brushes his flank against a soft tree to shed the last of a troublesome winter coat and thus enters Helovia shiny and new. Like a much-loved car he is well looked after and mostly for show, and the vanity plate that is his expression tells you more about its owner than you asked for.

As the sun slowly rises, he looks simply devilish. With every step he takes the desire to run after him grows stronger. You want to know what goes on in his head. You want to feel those logical impulses like they are your own, cradle them in between your teeth like the last rose left in a bouquet. He looks like he'd be a good tango partner, don't you think? Of course, it's undeniable. The way he walks with the slightest sashay and his posture so prim that it's a wonder he isn't balancing the burdens of an entire separate life on his back. Maybe he is. Maybe that's what makes him better than you. Maybe that's why, even though he'd be the best partner of your life, he would never lead you onto the floor.

You're frowning but he's grinning--wicked and serene all at once. He steps through the forest with high-kick steps and flicks his ears back to catch the sound of a murder squawking from the direction he came from. How many times have you begged him to teach you to make that face? Too many to count, really. You can look down at yourself in the water and tug your lips left and right but you'll never match that grin, that pure embodiment of charm, that perfection.

"Quiiii-et!" he hisses with a sharp turn of his neck towards the birds, a turn so abrupt that you worry his spine will snap in two. The muscles bulge instead, looking like they'll pop through the shimmering bay coat that envelops him and leave long, whip-like gashes. You almost want him to bleed so you can be the one to lick his wounds.

The crows quiet and take off in hurried flight away from Helovia's center and back into the wilds. You know it's just the sharp tone of his voice--the sudden challenge to their raucous cries--that sends them off, but there's an illusion of control. It's almost like he sent them away.

But you know better than to believe such foolish things, don't you?


I have no plans for Kit! Do your worst, Helovia.
P.S. Click the dialogue for a treat.


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