Dead weight
#9
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Wordcount: 3+

Halo's biting retort drove a laugh from the chest of her cousin, brilliant and melodical, at the thought of someone reading the small diary she had drawn and scribbled in to no end. Bloody rubies gazed with vague mocking at the younger female, the warrior of Inferni who was respected by the Lykoi but not recognized for what she was. "They wouldn't have been able to read it." It was a simple fact that dropped from her muzzle without restraint. Talitha Lykoi, princess and returned-traitor, lacked common skills used to communicate outside of words. Her pages, one after one after one, were covered in something akin to runic markings that made sense to no one but the author. Internally, she wondered if Halo had tried to decipher the pages, and her response to the strange scribbles within.

Offering Zombie help in finding a home was easy, though Halo interjected that Inferni had only been her home for months rather than the years claimed. The older female's crimson eyes rolled subtly in her head; in her mind, she had committed no grievance in calling it her home regardless of where on the map she had been sitting at the time. She was sure Gabriel would feel no annoyance in her love of the territory, and Gabriel's opinion trumped that of the proud Halo before her. She didn't respond to the mention, focusing her attention on Zombie's work. The Lykoi saw art for what it was and respected it without fault; though the wraith-like creature may not have meant it to be a piece of work, the older female was keen to notice anything that could be translated to artistic medium.

Delicate fingers pressed against the signature, her other hand reaching out to take the utensil offered to the Lykoi women. While her cousin agreed that it was a waste of time, divulged in the dry tone of disapproval, the de le Poer princess jabbed the knife into the bark beneath the carved name. Quick, deliberate motions were made to create an image under the moniker, crafting eight segmented legs and a curved tail with a barb. She wasn't sure what it was called; they didn't have such animals in the area, but she had seen them in books picked up in Halifax. "The trees don't get enough love out here. My family lacks fundamental capabilities in artistic expression, preferring battle to ink. The forest might appreciate some individuality."

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