11-25-2009, 01:29 PM
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After several exploratory trips, Larkspur had made a pile of odds and ends that he found suitable for his and Misery’s purposes. Most of the items were soft goods—blankets, a large comforter. He had found some tattoo equipment for her, a few odds and ends he had recognized after seeing them for so long. There was metal, too, that she had used to brand the Khalif’s language on his arms. Two-legged, Larkspur was tall, but not incredibly wide. His fur was growing out, and was a mixture of black, bleached orange, and the orange-black of grown out hair. Black ears stood out amongst a sea of now nearly blonde-orange, a color he was happy to see. It was not white, but it was no longer that terrible dark orange that sections of his fur still were. His tail was this way, but after another hour, the tips of his fur had become remarkably pale.
The white signs on his arms were brazen against his coat, and more prominent then they were when he was four-legged. Larkspur, with a bag around his shoulder, was making his way back to the horse. He stopped at an unfamiliar scent, and soon found the source—a pretty girl in peculiar clothing. Thinking of his Aunt-Mother’s constant badgering about him finding a woman, he approached her. “Hello,” the four year old called out.
After several exploratory trips, Larkspur had made a pile of odds and ends that he found suitable for his and Misery’s purposes. Most of the items were soft goods—blankets, a large comforter. He had found some tattoo equipment for her, a few odds and ends he had recognized after seeing them for so long. There was metal, too, that she had used to brand the Khalif’s language on his arms. Two-legged, Larkspur was tall, but not incredibly wide. His fur was growing out, and was a mixture of black, bleached orange, and the orange-black of grown out hair. Black ears stood out amongst a sea of now nearly blonde-orange, a color he was happy to see. It was not white, but it was no longer that terrible dark orange that sections of his fur still were. His tail was this way, but after another hour, the tips of his fur had become remarkably pale.
The white signs on his arms were brazen against his coat, and more prominent then they were when he was four-legged. Larkspur, with a bag around his shoulder, was making his way back to the horse. He stopped at an unfamiliar scent, and soon found the source—a pretty girl in peculiar clothing. Thinking of his Aunt-Mother’s constant badgering about him finding a woman, he approached her. “Hello,” the four year old called out.
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