09-02-2018, 11:25 AM
The wicked laughter that wants to fly from my throat like a startled murder of crows remains tightly secure. For now. I won’t be able to hold it back forever. I’m pretty sure everyone know this by now.
My time spent in Sylva has done little to hinder my gaudy, vibrant nature, and if anything the dull silence has made it worsen. Worsen? No, no. It’s better, definitely better. There’s nothing wrong with me after all, I’m just living my life the most interesting way possible.
These thoughts scatter however with a gentle shrug of my golden sheen shoulder, and the quickly ensuing pitter patter of voices worming their ugly little heads into my ears. Voices, voices, I know them well. But they continue, despite my best attempt to ignore them; I don’t always listen to the all the voices, mind you. But these other ones, they carry on. And with nothing better to do today, I break through the fiery limbs of the forest to behold a quad of various equine bodies. There’s Swampy, and a Wolfie, and an Arthas, oh my! I remember him from when I first came to Sylva, and then my failed attempt at diplomacy in Loess. Oh well, not my deepest, darkest, desire and aspiration in life I suppose. No worries, now rest assured, there is plenty else for me to get my pretty little hooves into.
I’m not sure if they know it, but Sibella is there too. Haide has noticed her, silent in the treeline, craftily weaving a shadow golem reminiscent of the houndish Wolfie that loosely turned about the bold grey stallion and pretty green thing that Swampy seems to found interest in. I watch for a moment, or maybe two or three, or 73 even. Moving into the openness of the clearing that stood within, but only after the wolfish shadow mass that lacked eyes or ears and puppeteered by Sibella had stalked out first. I slink fluidly past the puppet as it stills in front of the invasive pair, its mouth slightly ajar in a silent snarl.
I cannot help the childish giggle that finally escapes the containment of my vocal chords, only stopping within the dappled stallion’s personal space (personal space? I do not understand this concept, I’m surprised I even know it is a thing at all). My dial had first inclined to one side, as the black null voids of my eyes rolled silently in my head in studious appraisal, and now it tips even deeper to the other side, my namesake impish grin spreading eerily wide across my face.
”And what exactly, is to be expected of us?” Expectations—they are easily formulated and said, and not as easily upheld and policed. Certainly, for his boldness in claiming Sylva for his own, and knowing what kind of creatures it held, there had to be a reasoning behind such a move. I may be psychotic, but I’m not stupid, I’ll have you know.
@[Arthas] @[Rey] @[Maugrim] Found a snippet of Jack muse for this special occasion XD
My time spent in Sylva has done little to hinder my gaudy, vibrant nature, and if anything the dull silence has made it worsen. Worsen? No, no. It’s better, definitely better. There’s nothing wrong with me after all, I’m just living my life the most interesting way possible.
These thoughts scatter however with a gentle shrug of my golden sheen shoulder, and the quickly ensuing pitter patter of voices worming their ugly little heads into my ears. Voices, voices, I know them well. But they continue, despite my best attempt to ignore them; I don’t always listen to the all the voices, mind you. But these other ones, they carry on. And with nothing better to do today, I break through the fiery limbs of the forest to behold a quad of various equine bodies. There’s Swampy, and a Wolfie, and an Arthas, oh my! I remember him from when I first came to Sylva, and then my failed attempt at diplomacy in Loess. Oh well, not my deepest, darkest, desire and aspiration in life I suppose. No worries, now rest assured, there is plenty else for me to get my pretty little hooves into.
I’m not sure if they know it, but Sibella is there too. Haide has noticed her, silent in the treeline, craftily weaving a shadow golem reminiscent of the houndish Wolfie that loosely turned about the bold grey stallion and pretty green thing that Swampy seems to found interest in. I watch for a moment, or maybe two or three, or 73 even. Moving into the openness of the clearing that stood within, but only after the wolfish shadow mass that lacked eyes or ears and puppeteered by Sibella had stalked out first. I slink fluidly past the puppet as it stills in front of the invasive pair, its mouth slightly ajar in a silent snarl.
I cannot help the childish giggle that finally escapes the containment of my vocal chords, only stopping within the dappled stallion’s personal space (personal space? I do not understand this concept, I’m surprised I even know it is a thing at all). My dial had first inclined to one side, as the black null voids of my eyes rolled silently in my head in studious appraisal, and now it tips even deeper to the other side, my namesake impish grin spreading eerily wide across my face.
”And what exactly, is to be expected of us?” Expectations—they are easily formulated and said, and not as easily upheld and policed. Certainly, for his boldness in claiming Sylva for his own, and knowing what kind of creatures it held, there had to be a reasoning behind such a move. I may be psychotic, but I’m not stupid, I’ll have you know.
@[Arthas] @[Rey] @[Maugrim] Found a snippet of Jack muse for this special occasion XD