10-02-2020, 08:31 PM
[quote="wilt" pid='108093' dateline='1600130790']
@[Popinjay] @[Fiorina]
WILT
He continues gently whispering his lessons to the seedlings, cooing and chuckling at the way they snap in agreement with him. They are wonderful children and quick learners. It makes him wonder. If he could love these, his children, so easily, then why did Starlust not adore him the moment he was born to her? He pauses to think over this and frown before he is distracted by the sound of someone coming close.
Peculiar. He does not know the word, but her tone is kind enough that he does not bristle when she says it. Instead, Wilt grins and reveals his pointed black teeth as he strives to make an excellent first impression. The northern flytraps all mimic his sharp smile as they sway gently in the wind. But a frown crosses his lips while the nearest sprout snaps at her.
“No, this is a friend. See how she has the spores of your neighbors on her?” he explains to the small plant. It wags its jaw slowly in response. “They say they’re sorry. Too eager to prove themselves.”
And then he laughs, delighted when she says thank you. Wilt turns and watches the figure with the flaming horns as she gravitates closer to the forming group. Beautiful, she says. Tears swell along the brim of his eyelids before he blinks them away. They like his creations? His smile stretches further across his face.
“In a year’s time, they will be even more impressive,” he explains with a self-assured nod. The flytraps blooming in the thick vines of his mane snap their teeth excitedly and it almost sounds like laughter. “My name is Wilt. I come from Sylva.”
Peculiar. He does not know the word, but her tone is kind enough that he does not bristle when she says it. Instead, Wilt grins and reveals his pointed black teeth as he strives to make an excellent first impression. The northern flytraps all mimic his sharp smile as they sway gently in the wind. But a frown crosses his lips while the nearest sprout snaps at her.
“No, this is a friend. See how she has the spores of your neighbors on her?” he explains to the small plant. It wags its jaw slowly in response. “They say they’re sorry. Too eager to prove themselves.”
And then he laughs, delighted when she says thank you. Wilt turns and watches the figure with the flaming horns as she gravitates closer to the forming group. Beautiful, she says. Tears swell along the brim of his eyelids before he blinks them away. They like his creations? His smile stretches further across his face.
“In a year’s time, they will be even more impressive,” he explains with a self-assured nod. The flytraps blooming in the thick vines of his mane snap their teeth excitedly and it almost sounds like laughter. “My name is Wilt. I come from Sylva.”