isn't she lovely?
Had Ruthless paid attention more to sight, she would have acknowledged the brightly painted mare with vibrant white locks first. However, the mare who calls herself Desire is not the mare Ruthless acknowledges first.
It is the scent of Lilliana that holds her attention.
Excitement and anticipation however is burned as the fiery red mare emerges with yet another protruding belly. Ruth feels her mouth run dry, her throat feel stuck, her stomach plummet to the barren floor. So, she ran off with him.
And all Ruth can think is what she did to lose everyone.
“Hello,” she is able to calmly muster to Desire though her eyes struggle to peel themselves from the robust barrel Lilliana is sporting, “I… I am not entirely sure now.”
It’s true, she hadn’t come to Pangea for really anything other than answers. Something to help her learn the fallout of Taiga and the struggle of Nerine, or perhaps a place to escape it altogether. Like Kalil and Aten (and supposedly Lilliana) had done. Though words struggle to form as she faces the chestnut ghost that for weeks has had nightmares about.
Worried about.
For nothing?
Lilliana speaks and for a second Ruthless loses herself in the familiarity of her tone; the soft sing-song pitch, the gentle deliverance, the polite physical language. Her words hug her in an invisible blanket of safety like the soft touch of a mother’s hand, before the nagging reminder of Wolfbane slaps her from her comfort.
Her train of thought returns before uncomfortably shifting her stance. Desire as her train of thought returns, uncomfortably shifting her stance, “Ruthless. Visiting I guess you could say.”
It is the scent of Lilliana that holds her attention.
Excitement and anticipation however is burned as the fiery red mare emerges with yet another protruding belly. Ruth feels her mouth run dry, her throat feel stuck, her stomach plummet to the barren floor. So, she ran off with him.
And all Ruth can think is what she did to lose everyone.
“Hello,” she is able to calmly muster to Desire though her eyes struggle to peel themselves from the robust barrel Lilliana is sporting, “I… I am not entirely sure now.”
It’s true, she hadn’t come to Pangea for really anything other than answers. Something to help her learn the fallout of Taiga and the struggle of Nerine, or perhaps a place to escape it altogether. Like Kalil and Aten (and supposedly Lilliana) had done. Though words struggle to form as she faces the chestnut ghost that for weeks has had nightmares about.
Worried about.
For nothing?
Lilliana speaks and for a second Ruthless loses herself in the familiarity of her tone; the soft sing-song pitch, the gentle deliverance, the polite physical language. Her words hug her in an invisible blanket of safety like the soft touch of a mother’s hand, before the nagging reminder of Wolfbane slaps her from her comfort.
Her train of thought returns before uncomfortably shifting her stance. Desire as her train of thought returns, uncomfortably shifting her stance, “Ruthless. Visiting I guess you could say.”
Ruthless
father x mother or rank
@[Desire] @[lilliana]