i stole the prince of wales
#3
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I NEVER

NOTICED

Y hallo thar. I ded indeed lyk ur postz.

YOU WERE ILLEGAL
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Anathra lay across the bed haphazardly, not caring if Z walked in on her lying about like she was a child who just finished a temper tantrum. The day before, they had piled the bed with all the most-intact pillows and blankets they could find, and it was too easy to sink into the soft reprieve and close one's eyes. The shades of the blankets varied, from dull earthy tones to colours that matched shades that her hair had been. It didn't matter if it matched or not. It was something that humans had always seemed anal about, at least in books. This had to go with this. No, not that one; it didn't match. It was a bed, for Goddess' sake. The small girl sighed and rolled over, flinging her arms behind her head as she sank into the plush and closing honey eyes. Just a little rest. A nap couldn't hurt. Nope.


Eyes slitted open as she heard the door creak, head tilting as she felt muscles coil. The scent of Zacor made it to her senses before his form did, and she relaxed. Ana stretched and sat up as he closed the door, watching with a slight smirk as he peered at her through the curtain of his hair. It struck her as odd that Zephyrin would choose such an anti-social thing for his heir. He had never been bubbly outgoing himself, but he had been charismatic. She remembered her uncle as one being able to persuade with a soft glance and a lying tongue. But never mind that. The little Eidolon girl and the prince of Eidolon were like Ying and Yang, but she didn't mind much. She could always work on his social skills. Whether it made him uncomfortable or not.


Ana slid off the bed, making her way over to the male in a lithe dancer's step. Arms were flung around his torso/chest gently, as she couldn't exactly reach his neck. Well, maybe she could, if she stood on her tip toes. Ahck, Ti Mor hydwf! She frowned up at him mockingly, faking repine as she wrinkled her nose. A innau cael dim gweledig Ti y ers meitin! Again the frown, but it was still only in jest. She turned the rough, difficult language into a lilt. Anathra knew he probably had been exploring, or maybe just meditating. She never knew with Zacor.



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