hello teacher, tell me what's my lesson
#1
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529

Tl;dr |: For Siesie~ Backdate to the 20th, yes?


A few sunrises pasted since the fawn last spoke to the coyote with the mahogany locks. Since their meeting, Sparrow managed to mentally devourer the first few letters of the alphabet, including their different sounds, some of them a review. It was a long process, but she took her time, allowing for them to sink into her mind before moving on to the next one, and in retrospect the Tirones knew that because of this speed of learning, the letters would be etched into her memory. It would make reading—whenever she was ready for that—a much easier task than to keep looking back to the children book.

But, thoughts crept into the lady’s mind, its distracting her from the book that laid on her lap on a late afternoon. For whatever reason, she found herself staring at her hand, her left paw elongated, toes that had become fingers that were now dexterous in many ways. It was not like she detested the optime form; no, she liked the things it brought to her that was not possible in other ways. But, she still felt alien in her skin, even if the feeling was in the back of her mind at times. Sparrow went to thinking about the Luperci blood that now flowed in her, which eventually led to darker memories that clung to her mind like evil tendrils of ivy.

In the end of the ominous, inner wonderings, the mottled hybrid carefully discarded the book from her lap, and wrapped her thin arms around her legs that pulled towards her chest, eyes staring at nothing. She hated thinking about the past, but she thought of it often, mostly about Winter. She missed the simple life she had, before Marcel and the virus, thinking about what he made her into was nearly the death of her, and maybe it still is. She knew hopelessly that it’ll never be simple again, and had to take it. But… It didn’t have to be as hard as she was making it.
Sparrow thought about it for a moment, and decided that she spent enough time trapped, maybe time to seek another’s help. Her first thought went to Vesper, but she threw out that idea quickly; she did not want to push back any respect that her sister managed to make of her nervous sister. She was lost for a moment, unsure what to do, until it struck her. She quickly got to her feet and half-jogged, half-sprinted westward.

Thanks to her rushed pace, she reached the only building that survived the test of time that sat in the Waste right as the sun was gulped by the horizon. Barely any light shed through, but it was enough to see as Sparrow entered the schoolhouse on quite feet. “Myrika?” the mottled hybrid breathed, canary-yellow eyes glancing around the building. She did not focus upon her surroundings, more on the fact that the woman’s scent here was strong, and knew she found the right place. But, she did not know if she was home, and hoped that she did not miss her or that she was already asleep early in some hidden room.


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#2
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There were a great many positive things Myrika might have said about the Great Village schoolhouse. It was not quite so lonely here with Kaena, Halo, and Halo's children living with her, and that had been her only real complaint about the place. It was sturdily built, perhaps meant as a fallout shelter before the demise of humanity, and there were no holes or leaky patches in the roof to speak of. The warmth emanating from her little woodstove kept her own room toasty in winter, and neither of her houseguests -- housemates, she supposed, since there was nothing temporary about either Causarius's stay -- had ever complained about the temperature.

The redhead stood in what had once been a rear office, a long and narrow room with few windows. She stood, gawking at herself in a cracked mirror. She made faces, stretched and pinched skin, stood on the very tips of her toes and then hunkered down. Frowning broadly, she was still engaged in this when a noise caught her attention -- surely, the sound of the front door opening. It hadn't creaked since Ithiel had applied that strange oil, but it wasn't quiet, either. Myri stepped away from the little mirror and rushed out of the back office. The tawny coyote wore her longer hand-made skirt, the short one, and she paused, briefly considering throwing the thing off, when a voice hurried her onward..

She poked her head out of her room and saw Sparrow within the hallway. The reddish coyote smiled as she stepped out and into the dimly lit hallway. Hi Sparrow, she said, leaning awkwardly against the doorframe. How goes the reading?



Myrika is by Nat!

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#3
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278

OOC here!


She felt uncomfortable, or, a better word for it, unsafe, as she stood about a yard away from the door that she quietly shut behind her. The idea of Luperci living in houses that were made by humans, whom which died out generations ago, which was left to rot in the elements and to be reclaimed by nature, was not something that the fawn supported. She saw only a few homes in her lifetime, and besides the D’Neville and the building she stood in at that moment, were crumpled, caved in, barely showing any signs that it once stood tall and was capable of protecting life and hearth. Sparrow managed to spare some of her attention upon the interior, but when she spotted no signs of impending collapsing, in fact showing great conditions, she became less inclined to leave, especially when Myrika stepped out of one of the rooms.

“The reading? It has, um, been going great… Lots of letters, and, um, words. A-all has vowels. Similar sounds, h-hard to decide.” She was terrible as conversation most of the time, but it was worse because of the anxiety that now went through her. When more nervous than usual, she spoke in snippets, sometimes even speaking nonsense that had only meaning to her. Sparrow became silent for a quick moment, and asked quietly, “I-is there somewhere we can speak…? No one? I… um, yeah.” Again, she was lost for words, her mind unable to tell her what to say to get her point across to the woman.

The fawn sighed raggedly at herself, hands fluttering nervously to her mane, her movements a tad bit jerky than usual. “Somewhere, a-alone, yeah…”



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#4
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Sparrow hadn't seemed exceedingly outgoing upon their first meeting, but now she seemed even more introverted, stumbling over her words here and there. Myri peered at her with concern written across a tawny face, readying herself to prompt the other woman for information when Sparrow again spoke, asking for a place where they might speak privily. Myri nodded and turned, looking down the dim hallway. She didn't suppose anyone was home -- the children were loud, but Kaena and Halo could both be rather quiet, and Myri didn't wish to disturb either of them.

Sure -- we could head out to the corral, if you want? The horses and sheep won't tell anyone a thing, the tawny woman suggested, heading for the door and propping it open, spending a moment peering out before turning turquoise eyes back toward Sparrow. Everything okay? she asked, casually enough. The Praeses seemed unduly nervous, and Myri was a little concerned, but she didn't wish for it to be written all over her face. Such a reaction might only provoke more nervousness from her companion.



Myrika is by Nat!

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#5
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217

OOC here!


Yellows eyes watched where her blues went, but they swept back down when Myrika looked back at her, staring at her tan toes. Now that she was here, Sparrow was able to calm down, if just a little, and noticed the others scents she mentally ignored when she was searching for the Consul, or perhaps she did but took note of it until now. “Others h-here… Horses, s-sheep, better. No words.” After agreeing with the tawny woman’s location, Sparrow quickly left the house, though stood still once exiting to wait for Myri. When she came, she let her lead her to where the corral was, and when she asked her inquiry, Sparrow found herself answering honestly.

“No… not okay,” she shakily, still not able to meet the other’s gaze, but was able to answer her question a bit more clearly in done than earlier, trying her best not to stutter. “Not normal… I’m not normal. Fingers.” Fumbling again, she became silent for a moment, but she began to make gestures towards her hands, and more or less to her entire, skinny stature. “Not like this. I want n-normal, simple. No fingers.” She hoped that she was making some sort of sense, but in the slight panicky state she was in, it was the best she could explain.


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#6
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Myrika is by Raze!

Sparrow's nervousness was contagious, and Myri wondered what bad news was about to be delivered to her. She hardly understood the words the Praeses murmured, something about horses and sheep, no words -- the hybrid's own uncertainty and anxiety were beginning to build, though she tried to keep her ears perked and her face smooth, bared of any telltale signs of such emotions within her. She moved toward the fence and leaned up against it casually, turning toward Sparrow. Myrika tried her best to look expectant but not quite pressuring, wondering what this might be about.

As the coyote spoke, Myrika could see her mounting anxiety plainly, and the hybrid reached out with her hand, holding it palm up between them. She had never touched Sparrow before, and as she herself was sometimes strange about such physical closeness -- especially when unexpected or at a high point of emotion -- she did not wish to forcibly paw the other woman. I don't understand, the tawny woman confessed, when it seemed Sparrow was through.

You don't want hands anymore? You want to stay in your four-legged form? You can do that, the woman began, frowning. Both of her large ears swept back into the mess of wavy red hair upon her head, and she herself looked down, though she stooped a bit and tried to catch Sparrow's eyes, impossible as it seemed with their difference of height and the Praeses' downward gaze. It'll be a lot harder for you to learn how to read if you don't ever have hands, though.

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#7
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sorry if this is slightly dramatic. ; ; i just imagine sparr acting like this

Word Count → 326


When Myrika moved her hand, which was unexpected to Sparrow, she half frozen, half winced, and all together tensing. But, a half-second afterwards, she relaxed, and found the ground more interesting than before, as if in hopes that the woman did not catch that moment. But, the fawn knew that she was watching her, and despite its quickness, it was hard to miss, and felt ashamed that she flinched at a simple gesture. She did not know what to do with it, so she simply stared at her hand.

Sparrow began to nodded in agreement when Myri understood what she was trying to say; at least most of it, but then shook her head slightly at the rest of her words, quickly adding in a meek, but slightly encouraging statement. “Reading is good, it’s fun. I don’t want to have no… hands forever. But… I can’t. I’m stuck.” Again, she began to point at herself, trying to think clearly. “I think know how—but I can’t. Terrifying. It hurts.”

The fawn was remembering the night she shifted for the first time. She was alone in an old badger’s den, her recently inflicted wounds not quite on the road to healing yet. “Dark, hurt…” she began to murmur quietly, perhaps just above the slight whisper for Myrika to hear if she was paying attention, thinking her thoughts were in her mind and not on her lips. “Alone. Then cracks. Lots of cracks. Scary, changing. Thinking, going to mother—dying. But lived, not seeing her. Hurts worse.”

Finally, after the breathy phrases, she managed to tear her eyes away from the dirt to glance at the woman’s, beholding them for a moment. “Help?” she asked clearly, but barely lacking any of the desperation she was seeking. After her request, her gaze flickered back down, automatically jumping to the conclusion that she was in the wrong to ask, that maybe the hybrid couldn’t help her, or didn’t want to. “Sorry…”

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to Morgana

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#8
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Myrika is by Aly!

Sparrow didn't seem to understand the gesture, but Myrika didn't press her luck; she dropped her hand, uncertain as to whether she should try to comfort the other woman physically, but listened to her intently all the same, growing concern as the tried to piece together the earthen-hued coyote's broken speech. She leaned forward and both large coyote ears pricked upwards to hear the woman as her voice dropped. Though Myrika had questions abound, she forced her muzzle to remain shut and let the yellow-eyed woman finish speaking.

No, please, she started, loudly objecting to the woman's apology. Please, don't apologize, she continued, more softly. It's okay, I'll help you. You're -- you don't like shifting, the redhead concluded, turquoise eyes trying to catch Sparrow's once again. Were you hurt when -- the first time? Is that how you mean? I'm sorry you lost your mother, too. I don't know mine, either -- she left when I was very young, and she might still be dead. You're not alone, the hybrid offered, knowing there were no words to soothe such a wound; she could make only the paltry offering of communal sorrow and shared misery.

Myrika paused to motion to the ground. The grass was springy and dry, and it felt good beneath her. What can I do to help? Do you just want to talk? Myri supposed she could shift for Sparrow and show her the process was painless, and perhaps that might ease her fears -- words were powerful, too, and the Praetorian believed they might be of use here.

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#9
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occ here

Word Count → 309


She still felt sorry—for dragging her tail here, for making Myrika feel anxious over her—but, she remained silent, to show at least she’ll outwardly comply with her on that, and cause more grief that she had already caused without thinking about it. “…Yeah, hurt. That’s why... He was one, after-“ She cut herself off, realizing that she was getting too personal for her own good. Sparrow would have regretted things even further if they were to discuss Marcel, wanting no one to know about him and what he had done, not even Vesper; yes, the fawn’s sister knew his face, but she did not know the mind behind the mask. “Bad blood. Lots of wounds. That’s why I changed,” she said, somewhat curtly and with a bit of spite, though it was not directed towards the Consul.

She glanced up when Myri mentioned her own mother, though she looked at her face than her eyes. “Sorry. She would be proud, don’t know what she misses. Good daughter.” She wished she could have said the same support for herself, but thus far, she’d done Winter no justice, one day, perhaps. She was surprised, though, that the tawny one lacked her mother; she imagined children without such love would be cold, not knowing the warmth. Again, she was trumped, but was glad that Myrika was as kind as she was.

“Talking… would be good,” she said in agreement, becoming slightly less nervous now that she spit out what was eating her. “Does it feel bad…normally?” she asked, trying to focus on the feeling she had when she changed for the first time—some force that she could not describe. For a moment, she thought she may have grasped it, but her concentration fluttered and loss the feeling. But, again she focused, using their conversation to keep back her fear.

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to Morgana

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#10
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Myrika is by Aly!

The redhead frowned, nodding. She could not imagine her first shift as anything other than the pleasant experience it had been. She could no longer remember if it was her or Cassie who had assumed the two-legged form first, but she knew Kharma must have been there for the both of them. It saddened her to think Sparrow and others like her might have had no support whatsoever. It sounded like there was more than blood and wounds behind the dust-hued woman's anguish, but Myri did not press.

Thanks, Myri said, smiling. She wasn't sure if Rachias would be proud of her -- she didn't know Rachias well enough to say what would have made her proud in the first place. Maybe her mother would have wanted a daughter more devoted to the Lykoi blood? Myri could always wonder, but she did not think she'd ever know. It never hurts, normally. Some Luperci I've known say when you're really hurt is when it hurts -- so it makes sense it would've hurt your first time, Myrika explained. But it really shouldn't hurt now, honestly. I promise. Myri had never heard of a Luperci who just hurt when they shifted -- she doubted such a phenomenon would manifest in Sparrow anyway.

Do you want me to show you? Maybe if you watch, the hybrid suggested, though she did not know whether this would cause further anguish to Sparrow.

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#11
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occ here

Word Count → 309


Sparrow didn't know the tawny woman's mother either, but whatever kind of person she was, if she knew Myrika, the unknown mother should have felt pride in her. Her daughter was well educated, friendly, and not to mention quite the looker. Sparrow thought if she were to have pups of her own--the idea would probably never come to be, though, for reasons that she did not like to think over, but comparsion was an easier way to see it that simple imagining--the hybrid would want them to be like her. Again, she felt a pang of sadness that Myri did not have many memories of her dame, but her father must have been a good man to have groom a fine example of a proper canine.

"I see..." The fawn tried to recall exactly what injuries she had prior to her first transformation. Despite their lack of charity from her repression of them, her body remember them clearly; she lightly wrung her wrists, where unseen scars laced her delicate skin. She also remembered how the wounds got worse when she shifted, and it became logical to her now that the turning made the pain that was already there worse, not the turn itself. This comforted her a bit, since her body was healthier than it was before and she might not feel the searing damage she had felt months ago.

She blinked at Myri's suggestion, and nodded meekly. "If you want... It would be nice." The thought of her bones cracking and conforming was perhaps the worse process in her opinion, the noise just as terrifying at the odd feeling. But, watching it, knowing exactly what was going on the outside, could nullify the fear of it when she would go through it herself. She wondered how Myri wasn't scared of that herself, but did not question that aloud.

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to Morgana

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#12
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(--)



Myrika is by Sie!

The redhead was apprehensive about shifting in front of another. She had done it before plenty of times, of course, and was not normally anxious regarding such a thing, but under normal circumstances, she wasn't shifting as an example of the process. Nothing had ever gone wrong before, but what if her body picked now to throw a loop? There was a brief flutter of panic in her chest, but she staved it off and forced a smile instead. It was such a good counterfeit, the smile even reflected in her blue-green eyes. Nervous as she was, she must not show that nervousness to Sparrow.

Okay, she said, shuffling back a little bit. Just watch closely. I'll keep talking, if you want, but tell me to shut up, if you'd rather, too, the redhead said, taking in a deep breath. She thought about the four-legged form she was born in, running flat-out and close to the ground, hunting on the fields. I'm just thinking about what it's like in that other form. To be honest, I don't know if that's really what you're supposed to do, but I always do, and that's how I start. Her hair had begun to withdraw, lengthy red waves becoming shorter and shorter. Myrika had never been an extremely proficient shifter, but she knew it was possible to control the process and thus attempted such for Sparrow now, trying her hardest to keep the process slow and steady.

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#13
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occ here

Word Count → 293


The woman still seemed to be at a go for it, since the air she had about her remained confident. Again, Sparrow had to appreciate all that Myrika was going through for her, since she still considered shifting to be terrifying. But, she did not allow the constant fear to show upon her face anymore and instead a hopeful smile continued to show. The hybrid still wondered, but any chance, was there a possibility that it could hurt because she was made into this, but she nipped the thought at its bud. The redhead said that it wouldn’t, and she had to put faith in her, if anyone at all.

She remained silent, to show that she wished to listen to her. The female felt she needed all the advice Myrika had to give, and paid close attention to what she was saying. She pondered her words for a moment, thinking how fleeting the feeling was as she had tried to grip it, and focused her mind on the past—before her first shift, before her time with her father, the memories that were bittersweet. She reminisced about her younger times with her mother and sister, mainly before Winter’s injury that made Vesper leave the den more often, when everything was what it was and there was no such thing as a virus.

Thinking about that helped her, or perhaps made her body yearn more to return to the original form. She watched Myrika as she slowly began to change, and had to reach up too, to feel her own mane. She could have sworn she felt it recede, but did not keep her touch there long, since she wanted her attention to remain on the changing woman and the memories she held.

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to Morgana

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#14
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(--)

Myrika had been eager to shift -- it meant an easier time reading and doing things requiring fingers and dexterity. The tawny woman could not imagine feeling stuck in one form or the other, however --- much as she appreciated her ability to assume the Optime form, she did not forget which form she'd taken at birth. Smiling still, the woman shook her head and neck to show the receding of her hair didn't hurt a bit. Her legs were beginning to grow slimmer, their structure and bones shifting with the faintest grinding noises. Myri spoke quickly, both to drown out the noise and to reassure Sparrow it was painless. It makes a bit of an odd noise, but -- it's like your stomach growling when you're hungry, nothing more. It doesn't even hurt as bad as when you get really hungry, the woman said, even as her arms began to change. Her elbows shifted slowly up her arm, wrists thickening and becoming less flexible. Her hands were last to change, fingers withdrawing into her paws. Four-legged, the woman grinned and did a half-turn, showing Sparrow that she was quite alright.



Myrika is by Nat!

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#15
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i love short posts<3<3

Word Count → 229


Whatever uncertainty the woman held within her slowly dwindled away as Myrika slowly began to morph. She guessed she was changing as well—her head started to feel lighter, being relieved from the weight of her short mane. Like the redhead showed, it did not hurt her like she had expected it to, though it was still an otherworldly feeling and made her quiver for a moment with some emotion. But, the slight shaking only lasted for a moment before she calmed herself with happy thoughts and memories.

Sparrow faintly whined at the sound of Myri’s bones, fear prickling and making the fur on her back rise a little, ears pressing against her head as if it would block off the sound. But, she silenced herself as the changing hybrid spoke again, and nodded meekly. She watched as the now four-legged Myrika walked around, smiling a bit herself, and almost did not notice the first of her bones contracting; that is, until they started to make noises. A chill went down her changing spine and her eyes widened, but other than that, she remained calm, the small smile still paying on her face. She was definitely slower than the tawny woman had been, but it was going faster than she would have thought, faster than the first shift that seemed to last for eternity. “…It doesn’t hurt,” she commented.

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to Morgana

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</style>[/html]
#16
[html]


(--)

The tawny coyote's turquoise eyes focused on Sparrow and she saw, with relief, that the wood-hued woman was shifting, too. Myri had to bite her tongue to keep from prematurely congratulating the woman; she feared startling Sparrow out of her concentration or otherwise frightening her. Instead, the hybrid simply watched, fascinated, as the other woman's form began to change. Myri realized she'd never really paid attention to another Luperci when they shifted before -- it was a wonderously strange and beautiful process. It was only when Sparrow spoke, her body perhaps a quarter of the way through the transformation, that Myrika grinned doggishly, her tongue lolling out of her muzzle. Nope, she said, tail quavering in the air behind her. You're doing it just fine, she encouraged. Keep going, she urged, her joy for her fellow Infernian's successes deepening with Sparrow's continued shift.



Myrika is by Alaine!

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#17
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now i feel like this post is too wordy ; ;

Word Count → 436


Her smile wobbled a bit on her face as her bones continued to make the noises, the transformation itself barely felt and unimportant compared to what she heard. But, she continued on anyway, never considering for a moment to stop now that she had started. If she suddenly lost her nerve and tried to put a halt to the process, would she remain in some sort of contorted form, trapped between bi-pedal and four-legged? No, she did not allow herself to image such a shape, knowing with her luck her body would somehow do something stupid and mess up the morph. She imaged herself running, just simply running across an open field, perhaps the Waste itself, dirt flying from beneath her paws. She wasn’t going anywhere in particular in her mind; she wasn’t running away from someone or something, she was running to run. The thought brought the smile to a further stretch that seemed to be worn of frowning.

She felt the shifts of her inner support as they moved and shrank, most of the creaks and cracks silencing except for a choice few, and overall her whole body became tinier than it already was. Limbs thinned out until they were lithe, long for her body but barely adding any height to her. Though her tail receded a little in length, its fur remained long as ever, as if a fluffy cloud hanged from the end of her body. The shoulders up were the last to change, muzzle somewhat thickening out a bit, and a wolfish face upon a coyote’s small body became more apparent. Finally, she felt things begin to settle and stop, and the changing paused, then she realized it must have been over. That was all there was.

Sparrow carefully shook herself, similar to what would do if they were covered with water, and took a few delicate steps forward. It was strange, to see the world from a familiar viewpoint that she had not seen through in a while. She glanced at Myrika, whom was still taller than her, though the difference was more minimal. She was quiet, unsure what to say next, or for that matter, what to do; she achieved what she wanted, and seemed to be at a lost now that she had turned. She approached the tawny hybrid closer, and touched her nose to her shoulder, just the slightest of contact. “Thank you, Myrika… You just don’t know how much this means to me,” she said quietly, a bit embarrassed about how dramatic her words sounded, but they were the only ones she could come up with.

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to Morgana

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