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03-26-2017, 11:02 AM
larue
There seemed to be more changes of late—more meetings, more obligations in the Basin. More action, more movement, more horses around. And, while not all of this was bad, the lemon drop (in her youthful angst) chose to focus on her irritation rather than the exciting opportunities of how many more others she could prank with this influx of ‘more’.
So, her flaxen tail slapped uncharacteristically against her hocks as she listened to all the promotions and power passed out—pale teal eyes brightly glancing to each person in turn. However, they were truly searching for her mother—where was she? Why was Lady Tiamat running the show? Her ears tilted backwards, another uncharacteristic emotion shooting through her sweetly sour chest: worry. She had lost her father, once. Was now the time she would lose her mother?
She cannot help the disgusted ’ick,’ sound that comes out of her mouth at the thought of killing animals and bringing them to these ‘wolves’ for their quest. Her ears tilt back as her tongue sticks out, soft pink nose wrinkling. “Is there anything else we can do to help?” was her pert question, “Besides, y’know, kill things?” It went, without question, that the little lemon drop girl would be unable to ‘protect’ the wolves from their ‘natural predators.’
Her eyes darted to Oizys as the grey filly made practical offerings, before she asked, “What d’you mean by ‘learn more about the wolves’? How do we know they won’t ‘eat us’?” She parroted the gargoyle’s claim of the wolves inevitably trying to eat them. The lemon drop wasn’t sure if wolves liked sour-sweet candy, but she wasn’t keen on finding out.
So, her flaxen tail slapped uncharacteristically against her hocks as she listened to all the promotions and power passed out—pale teal eyes brightly glancing to each person in turn. However, they were truly searching for her mother—where was she? Why was Lady Tiamat running the show? Her ears tilted backwards, another uncharacteristic emotion shooting through her sweetly sour chest: worry. She had lost her father, once. Was now the time she would lose her mother?
She cannot help the disgusted ’ick,’ sound that comes out of her mouth at the thought of killing animals and bringing them to these ‘wolves’ for their quest. Her ears tilt back as her tongue sticks out, soft pink nose wrinkling. “Is there anything else we can do to help?” was her pert question, “Besides, y’know, kill things?” It went, without question, that the little lemon drop girl would be unable to ‘protect’ the wolves from their ‘natural predators.’
Her eyes darted to Oizys as the grey filly made practical offerings, before she asked, “What d’you mean by ‘learn more about the wolves’? How do we know they won’t ‘eat us’?” She parroted the gargoyle’s claim of the wolves inevitably trying to eat them. The lemon drop wasn’t sure if wolves liked sour-sweet candy, but she wasn’t keen on finding out.
The day Larue decides to speak up at a meeting SMH
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