WC:: 402 - Random note, but regardless of what she is saying, Harrow is always softly spoken unless stated she is raising her voice.
At first she had been dead set upon workings along side the brindle hybrid in settling into the hill-house, only it was established rather quickly that rather then being a help the dark D'Angelo was little more then a helpless nuisance, a unneeded pilikia bringer whom continuously injured herself, dropped things, knocked them over and leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. Eventually her very presence grew to irritate the dog hybrid resulting in her being banished to their garden under strict instructions to simply clear it and clean, for the garden was a tip and it would matter little if the midnight lass damaged anything within it; outside damage was easier to fix then inside it seemed.
Throwing herself into the task of kicking, throwing and knocking various debris into a pile with the assistance of Omi, the wolf/cat pair made quick work, their efforts showing greatly here and there. Standing in the middle of the garden she grinned like a foolish pup, black strands of hair blown this way and that in a prime example of the 'wind swept look'. Emerging from the house Hael came to look over the work, smiling briefly and shaking his head in good humour as he headed back into the house, “What? What I do this time?” her voice called out, demanding to be answered without rising her volume or breaking free from her soft manner of speaking; a difficult thing, but then the midnight women prided herself in being able to speak harsh words like an angel.
The only answers she got was the hybrids throat laughter. Puffing out her cheeks she stormed over to the corner where her stuff was currently being kept, picking up the bag that contained her art supplies and throwing it over her shoulder, turning back before leaving she stuck her pink tongue out at the dog hybrid before running off into the village laughing as she went.
Entering more into the northern part of the village vibrant eyes zoned in on a familiar face. “Liam” she called out, slowing her pace as she altered her path to approach him, swaying her hips with girlish confident swagger, silk like tail weaving contently behind her. “What are you doing here?” with a gesture from her hand she indicated to the village and pack as a hole, ears turning forward as she tapped her foot one, awaiting an answer.
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