she's the flower that you place on my casket

Clover Love Lykoi · 08-06-2011, 05:07 PM

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Date: 06 Aug

Setting: Borgata Colotl, within The Ruins.

Time: Late afternoon

Character Form: Optime

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Word Count → 372 :: Pan lives in the Ruins, right? I figured most everyone does. Anyways, I hope this works. Let me know if I need to change anything! <3

The Chateau had become the center of Clover’s new life – it was the true heart of the thistle kingdom, it was the place she had first been brought upon her arrival, and it was where she now spent much of her time. The Lykoi woman had not strayed far or long from the Cosca Iztac, merely because it had become comfortable to her now. And of course she would only be lying if she denied that she hung close to the Ruins so that her soft golden gaze could befall the Thistle King more often.

The lithe coyote moved through the skeletal remains of the castle almost as silently as a ghost – her padded footfall muffled by the leaf litter that decorated much of the floors like forgotten holiday confetti. Darkened ears turned at the slightest sounds, searching for others within the Ruins. She sought Sirius, or perhaps even Eris, if they were around. Clover had gone to her old home of Inferni to retrieve some of the plants she had tenderly planted and cared for there. Now that she had successfully brought some to Salsola with her, she was curious to know where it would be most appropriate to permanently plant them. For now, her precious vegetation grew in a small mason jars she had filled with soil. They would not last long if they did not find a more appropriate home soon. However, Clover had not yet found either of the leaders and had been received mostly by solitude upon her return home. She knew the Ruins were often where many of the family members would spend their idle time, but it seemed as if most had chores or things to do elsewhere. Or else, Clover was looking in all the wrong places.

She stopped along one of the corridors that was open to the outside, lifting herself onto the crumbling wall that only was about as high as her own waist. Once settled, Clover plucked a rolled joint from her headband and fished for the matches in her denim hot pants’ pocket, and lit the cylinder’s end to find the sweet, savory smoke filling her lungs. She supposed she’d find one of her leaders in a matter of time.

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