10-08-2020, 08:11 PM
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]I'LL C[color=#36829c]OME BACK WHEN YOU CALL ME
A white lion with horns... The petite deer-fox blinked, hazel hues flickering. Wary. Suspicious. Shuffling the feathers at her side, the Fleshweaver trotted up to her father, keeping her distance from the stranger. Ex-Ardent. Stryker.
With a frown, she glanced up at her father, ears flattened. She didn't like Goldenluxury. But she was beginning to open up to the idea that not all pirates were bad. She didn't hate her cousins. Her family. She didn't want more fighting. More fire.
She didn't want to be friends with someone that matched the description of someone who hurt her best friend. Her Ry. No. That wasn't someone to ally with. To help. To fight beside. Her father would agree with that, right? He couldn't hate Goldenluxury more than he cared about them.
Softly, Aine murmured, "da." Silently, she mouthed Ry's name before shaking her head. "[abbr=I don't like this]Je n’aime pas ça.[/abbr]"
More resolutely, the fae straightened her back. She was the Pitt's Fleshweaver. Their healer. She ought to have a say in whether they agreed to war. Stubborn fire began blazing in her eyes. Defiant. Hopeful.
[/td][/tr][/table]With a frown, she glanced up at her father, ears flattened. She didn't like Goldenluxury. But she was beginning to open up to the idea that not all pirates were bad. She didn't hate her cousins. Her family. She didn't want more fighting. More fire.
She didn't want to be friends with someone that matched the description of someone who hurt her best friend. Her Ry. No. That wasn't someone to ally with. To help. To fight beside. Her father would agree with that, right? He couldn't hate Goldenluxury more than he cared about them.
Softly, Aine murmured, "da." Silently, she mouthed Ry's name before shaking her head. "[abbr=I don't like this]Je n’aime pas ça.[/abbr]"
More resolutely, the fae straightened her back. She was the Pitt's Fleshweaver. Their healer. She ought to have a say in whether they agreed to war. Stubborn fire began blazing in her eyes. Defiant. Hopeful.
© MADI