03-23-2020, 10:31 PM
[align=center]
Trygve. What an interesting name. With a sweet nickname too. "'m Ain-"
Caesar is a blur past her. An angry blur that leaves her eyes wide in surprise. Surprise which swiftly morphs into rage. Betrayal. Frustration. Her vision is blurring. And Caesar was berating her? Her? Did he even know what he's done? Did he know what he could be unleashing on them all over again? Did he even care?
"…" They were all stupid. Reckless. Thoughtless. They didn't care. They didn't remember. They didn't still see the smoke. They didn't still hear the roaring flames. They didn't wake up in the middle of the night, trying to chase away the memory of a friend's death, the light fading from their eyes.
Her chest tightened, nostrils flaring at the sudden loss of steady air. Was she breathing? Inhaling smoke? Inhaling nothing? She didn't know. She didn't care. She just wanted them to stop. She wanted them to care and think. The sand beneath her paws shifted; a warning of what could come.
But her legs are rock solid. Frozen. Through fuzzy vision, Aine can't tell if she's really seeing fire or not but she's... She's had it. She finally moves. One paw in front of the other. Until she's skidding in front of Trygve. Not in time to save him from the burn of the flames. But she stands in front of him protectively, eyes blazing with an unfurling rage.
"Leave. Him. Alone."
Caesar may be bleeding. May be missing a piece of his tail, but Aine only saw an annoying firestarter. Not an injured clanmate. He could nurse his wounds himself. She wasn't going to waste the supplies she worked hard to grow on someone so immature and thoughtless. Someone so rotten they'd attack a lost child. Trygve deserved those supplies. Trygve alone.
I'll come back when you call me
The second eye contact was made, Aine felt her cheeks flush. She'd never been good with direct eye contact. But she doesn't mind the jaguar's eyes too much. He seemed nice enough, really. Though he was looking away quite soon and she shuffled her paws as he begun to explain himself. Steadily her muscles began to relax. He was just lost.Trygve. What an interesting name. With a sweet nickname too. "'m Ain-"
Caesar is a blur past her. An angry blur that leaves her eyes wide in surprise. Surprise which swiftly morphs into rage. Betrayal. Frustration. Her vision is blurring. And Caesar was berating her? Her? Did he even know what he's done? Did he know what he could be unleashing on them all over again? Did he even care?
"…" They were all stupid. Reckless. Thoughtless. They didn't care. They didn't remember. They didn't still see the smoke. They didn't still hear the roaring flames. They didn't wake up in the middle of the night, trying to chase away the memory of a friend's death, the light fading from their eyes.
Her chest tightened, nostrils flaring at the sudden loss of steady air. Was she breathing? Inhaling smoke? Inhaling nothing? She didn't know. She didn't care. She just wanted them to stop. She wanted them to care and think. The sand beneath her paws shifted; a warning of what could come.
But her legs are rock solid. Frozen. Through fuzzy vision, Aine can't tell if she's really seeing fire or not but she's... She's had it. She finally moves. One paw in front of the other. Until she's skidding in front of Trygve. Not in time to save him from the burn of the flames. But she stands in front of him protectively, eyes blazing with an unfurling rage.
"Leave. Him. Alone."
Caesar may be bleeding. May be missing a piece of his tail, but Aine only saw an annoying firestarter. Not an injured clanmate. He could nurse his wounds himself. She wasn't going to waste the supplies she worked hard to grow on someone so immature and thoughtless. Someone so rotten they'd attack a lost child. Trygve deserved those supplies. Trygve alone.
— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —