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Larue...
A Turtle? A giant, talking turtle? The lemon drop’s candied, teal eyes screw up in suspicious dismissiveness. What good is a turtle? Her teenage, holier-than-thou thoughts begin to steamroll down this train of thought, meanly tearing apart any and all good things about this turtle and his lame tree. Why had her pops even drug her here? She had better things to do with her time.
So she sat at the back of the crowd, faux-lazy stare giving judgmental looks at any and all—that is, until her attention was drawn by @Arakh bleating. The hot-with-a-captial-‘H’ colt from Kisamoa’s arrival. Lemon-freckled ears perk forward, her pink-painted limbs (still short ‘cause she was tiny, but slender in proportion to her body) sidling her up close to the grey, bull-horned colt. Even being slightly younger than her, he was still taller, bigger, dreamy. Her lashes fluttered once, “Heya—”
But before the puppy-love-filly could really get going, her attention was draw to her pops, as he was carefully placing something on the tree. Her bright eyes narrowed slightly, trying to see just what lame-o trinket he was putting—
Soft, pink lips part and her eyes widened. It was her. A soft warmth replaced the cold, too-cool-for-school indifference in her chest. A small, fleeting smile passed over her lemony face, before her gaze darted to Arakh. Suddenly, she felt the urge to place something on a limb, as well.
But, in her snarky mindset, she hadn’t prepared anything to put on the tree, herself. Chewing on her lips she slowly shuffled forward, gaze growing apologetic and abashed as she looked at the Turtle, “Sorry Turts, but—uh, all I have is—uh, well, me… But, I’m thankful to be me—and, uh— for my pops, and ma, and Beans, and the Basin, and everything that makes me, well, me.” And with that, she nipped off a bit of her lemony hide from her chest, wincing only slightly, before placing it on the highest branch she could reach (which wasn’t, really, that high).
So she sat at the back of the crowd, faux-lazy stare giving judgmental looks at any and all—that is, until her attention was drawn by @Arakh bleating. The hot-with-a-captial-‘H’ colt from Kisamoa’s arrival. Lemon-freckled ears perk forward, her pink-painted limbs (still short ‘cause she was tiny, but slender in proportion to her body) sidling her up close to the grey, bull-horned colt. Even being slightly younger than her, he was still taller, bigger, dreamy. Her lashes fluttered once, “Heya—”
But before the puppy-love-filly could really get going, her attention was draw to her pops, as he was carefully placing something on the tree. Her bright eyes narrowed slightly, trying to see just what lame-o trinket he was putting—
Soft, pink lips part and her eyes widened. It was her. A soft warmth replaced the cold, too-cool-for-school indifference in her chest. A small, fleeting smile passed over her lemony face, before her gaze darted to Arakh. Suddenly, she felt the urge to place something on a limb, as well.
But, in her snarky mindset, she hadn’t prepared anything to put on the tree, herself. Chewing on her lips she slowly shuffled forward, gaze growing apologetic and abashed as she looked at the Turtle, “Sorry Turts, but—uh, all I have is—uh, well, me… But, I’m thankful to be me—and, uh— for my pops, and ma, and Beans, and the Basin, and everything that makes me, well, me.” And with that, she nipped off a bit of her lemony hide from her chest, wincing only slightly, before placing it on the highest branch she could reach (which wasn’t, really, that high).
...pucker up
Rue puts a piece of her lemony skin on the tree!
And talks to Arakh. The spirit of the turtle triumphs over teenage snarkiness! :D
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