01-03-2011, 04:28 PM
OOC: Thank you so much for responding! 
I've been eying Sage's sisters. 
Word Count: 1039.
IC:
Though she relished in the safety of four walls and the confinement of a human dwelling, it was making her claustrophobic. A more likely culprit than the room was her anxiety from moving away from her family. It clenched her tiny bird chest and clawed at her breath to make it ragged. The creature fought to regain control but it was difficult - now she was utterly alone with no one to check her sanity. Kaena had greeted her but then left to attend to other business. She was sure whatever it had been was something that she would have been unable to grasp or would find no interest in, having no real attachments to Inferni. Her membership was barely an hour old. While it seemed the rugged matron had warmed to her the tiniest bit, the amazon was still prickly, mistrustful, and how could she be blamed? Saraqael was a stranger, a liar, a spy, an imp and a faerie. Fearful and desperate, she had managed to find a home by Kaena's grace, but had yet to carve out a niche. Wariness suffused her when she realized how terrifying that sounded, and loneliness followed, but not for any person. She longed to be near plants because they asked nothing of her, never argued, and only desired her care. They were quiet friends who gave back when she needed them to by producing their leaves, fruits, or other substances for her consumption. Saraqael always had a beautiful relationship with them.
Just as she had entered the mansion, so she fled it in a cautious rush, crouched and flighty like a spooked sparrow. Ducking out of the house, she turned right. Without warning, the gravel of the driveway shocked her senses to intensity. It felt rough, dry, and gave her good traction yet was somehow slippery, falling over itself like water. It slid into the webbing at her toes and caught there. It felt good to be touched in a place she had never been before and she took a moment to revel in it, digging her feet into the crunching, rasping pebbles, feeling them scrape and flow over her skin and fur until she was satisfied and walked toward a snowy path, snapping her feet at the ankles and wiggling her toes with each step to force bits of rock to rocket out of the crevices she had intentionally lodged them in. The pads of her petite digits felt parched, as though her leathery flesh longed for a cool drink after an expedition in a desert. The dewy lick of melting flakes served just fine and the physical wetness was relieving.
The coyote slunk in the darkness but moonlight illuminated her tiny form, a celestial spotlight shining on a small and ghostly thief. Her fur was so pristinely white that it glowed softly along with the glittering snow. Such ethereal light died and turned dark around her face and limbs, black socks running up her forearms and calves to stop inches short of the joints. Her tail, too, had its tip cut off, or so it would seem to a lazy eye staring at her the shadows, and a crescent had been carved straight through her bony chest. On her back, two soft V's, like trailing streams of migratory birds, laced her in silver, the widely parted ends of the first beginning at the crease where her neck met her shoulders and coming to a point between her shoulder blades while the other began there and trailed nearly to the base of her tail. True to her skittish nature, she slipped suspiciously around the corner of the mansion, making a second right.
The greenhouse loomed, glistening as though its glass walls were really cubes of water limned by pewter frames. They looked clear and well-kept, and she roved over it from a distance, seeking for a shattered or missing pane, or even extensive moss growth, but pleasantly found none. More than anything it was a sign that people were working there, tending to the winter-susceptible life in its center as well as to the oversize container that housed it. Indeed, it looked green inside, her bi-colored eyes determining so even without the helping illumination of the day. Some of the plants were probably asleep for the coming season but others perhaps remained awake, tender leaflets stretching out for water and leaning up to graze the sky in anticipation for the return of the sun the next morning.
The instant Saraqael opened the door she knew she was not alone. Smoke, a human perfume, floated invisibly into her nostrils and she identified burning cannabis. Only one foot disturbed the doorway – all the had to do was take it out, but then what? Skulk back to her room to succumb to the prison of her over-active mind? No. Tonight it was better to brave accidental company than resign herself to such an awful, self-harming fate. She huffed her warm breath into the last remnants of winter-chilled air and closed the door to block out the cool, both feet firmly inside. The temperature, even at night, was higher than outside, she noticed. Inhaling and neglecting the strong odor of weed, the air was thick with humidity which was good for the delicate creatures, especially in winter.
Realizing there was no sense in hiding, especially since she had made unmistakable noises at the door, she moved to find the other. It was not hard because, despite the rows of plants, the smoke was thickest in one area. Saraqael moved there, her tiny body hidden by the sharp lines of leaves and the curling lashes of vines. Turning a corner, a woman came into view, small, but still managing to dwarf the pallid female with her leggy, tawny glory. Orangey-gold locks looked beach-tousled and eyes of buttercup were sweet. She looked like she smelled of sand and love with her fringed shorts and copious beads, her gardening book open and in hand. The only thing disrupting her cheerful innocence was a smattering of blood on the muzzle, but no one was perfect. The small Optime approached, pushing her green and blue bang to one side. Her meek voice burst the silence. “Hello.”
I've been eying Sage's sisters. Word Count: 1039.IC:
Though she relished in the safety of four walls and the confinement of a human dwelling, it was making her claustrophobic. A more likely culprit than the room was her anxiety from moving away from her family. It clenched her tiny bird chest and clawed at her breath to make it ragged. The creature fought to regain control but it was difficult - now she was utterly alone with no one to check her sanity. Kaena had greeted her but then left to attend to other business. She was sure whatever it had been was something that she would have been unable to grasp or would find no interest in, having no real attachments to Inferni. Her membership was barely an hour old. While it seemed the rugged matron had warmed to her the tiniest bit, the amazon was still prickly, mistrustful, and how could she be blamed? Saraqael was a stranger, a liar, a spy, an imp and a faerie. Fearful and desperate, she had managed to find a home by Kaena's grace, but had yet to carve out a niche. Wariness suffused her when she realized how terrifying that sounded, and loneliness followed, but not for any person. She longed to be near plants because they asked nothing of her, never argued, and only desired her care. They were quiet friends who gave back when she needed them to by producing their leaves, fruits, or other substances for her consumption. Saraqael always had a beautiful relationship with them.
Just as she had entered the mansion, so she fled it in a cautious rush, crouched and flighty like a spooked sparrow. Ducking out of the house, she turned right. Without warning, the gravel of the driveway shocked her senses to intensity. It felt rough, dry, and gave her good traction yet was somehow slippery, falling over itself like water. It slid into the webbing at her toes and caught there. It felt good to be touched in a place she had never been before and she took a moment to revel in it, digging her feet into the crunching, rasping pebbles, feeling them scrape and flow over her skin and fur until she was satisfied and walked toward a snowy path, snapping her feet at the ankles and wiggling her toes with each step to force bits of rock to rocket out of the crevices she had intentionally lodged them in. The pads of her petite digits felt parched, as though her leathery flesh longed for a cool drink after an expedition in a desert. The dewy lick of melting flakes served just fine and the physical wetness was relieving.
The coyote slunk in the darkness but moonlight illuminated her tiny form, a celestial spotlight shining on a small and ghostly thief. Her fur was so pristinely white that it glowed softly along with the glittering snow. Such ethereal light died and turned dark around her face and limbs, black socks running up her forearms and calves to stop inches short of the joints. Her tail, too, had its tip cut off, or so it would seem to a lazy eye staring at her the shadows, and a crescent had been carved straight through her bony chest. On her back, two soft V's, like trailing streams of migratory birds, laced her in silver, the widely parted ends of the first beginning at the crease where her neck met her shoulders and coming to a point between her shoulder blades while the other began there and trailed nearly to the base of her tail. True to her skittish nature, she slipped suspiciously around the corner of the mansion, making a second right.
The greenhouse loomed, glistening as though its glass walls were really cubes of water limned by pewter frames. They looked clear and well-kept, and she roved over it from a distance, seeking for a shattered or missing pane, or even extensive moss growth, but pleasantly found none. More than anything it was a sign that people were working there, tending to the winter-susceptible life in its center as well as to the oversize container that housed it. Indeed, it looked green inside, her bi-colored eyes determining so even without the helping illumination of the day. Some of the plants were probably asleep for the coming season but others perhaps remained awake, tender leaflets stretching out for water and leaning up to graze the sky in anticipation for the return of the sun the next morning.
The instant Saraqael opened the door she knew she was not alone. Smoke, a human perfume, floated invisibly into her nostrils and she identified burning cannabis. Only one foot disturbed the doorway – all the had to do was take it out, but then what? Skulk back to her room to succumb to the prison of her over-active mind? No. Tonight it was better to brave accidental company than resign herself to such an awful, self-harming fate. She huffed her warm breath into the last remnants of winter-chilled air and closed the door to block out the cool, both feet firmly inside. The temperature, even at night, was higher than outside, she noticed. Inhaling and neglecting the strong odor of weed, the air was thick with humidity which was good for the delicate creatures, especially in winter.
Realizing there was no sense in hiding, especially since she had made unmistakable noises at the door, she moved to find the other. It was not hard because, despite the rows of plants, the smoke was thickest in one area. Saraqael moved there, her tiny body hidden by the sharp lines of leaves and the curling lashes of vines. Turning a corner, a woman came into view, small, but still managing to dwarf the pallid female with her leggy, tawny glory. Orangey-gold locks looked beach-tousled and eyes of buttercup were sweet. She looked like she smelled of sand and love with her fringed shorts and copious beads, her gardening book open and in hand. The only thing disrupting her cheerful innocence was a smattering of blood on the muzzle, but no one was perfect. The small Optime approached, pushing her green and blue bang to one side. Her meek voice burst the silence. “Hello.”