- Sep 30, 2023
- 172
- 30
- 28
ˏˋ*⁀➷ She's trying. It's not easy, but she's trying.
Every move that Fallowbite makes feels wrong, feels like turning her belly up to meet waiting claws. Vulnerable. Every inch of scar-torn flesh becomes not a display of threat, but of weakness. She contorts her gravelly voice into something approaching gentleness, and it is an awkward thing. "Braveheart. Hey." She approaches him slowly. He looks at home among the colors of leaf-fall, warm fur dappled with leafen spots. And there upon his tail, little speckles of snow. She pauses for a moment, single eye fixed upon him.
And then, sheepishly, her gaze turns downwards. Another step forwards. "'S gettin' cold out," it mumbles. Stars above, it's bad at this. "Um." It comes around to sit by his side, curls its tail around its paws. A long exhale. She wants to try. "Mind sharin' some of that warmth? Y'look like a big furball sittin' there on your own." It doesn't quite have the dry, prodding humor that she was aiming for. It still sounds vulnerable to her torn ears. She does not lean in, but waits. This kind of affection comes far easier to Braveheart. There is a sort of relief in knowing that all she has to do is ask, even if even that feels difficult.
Every move that Fallowbite makes feels wrong, feels like turning her belly up to meet waiting claws. Vulnerable. Every inch of scar-torn flesh becomes not a display of threat, but of weakness. She contorts her gravelly voice into something approaching gentleness, and it is an awkward thing. "Braveheart. Hey." She approaches him slowly. He looks at home among the colors of leaf-fall, warm fur dappled with leafen spots. And there upon his tail, little speckles of snow. She pauses for a moment, single eye fixed upon him.
And then, sheepishly, her gaze turns downwards. Another step forwards. "'S gettin' cold out," it mumbles. Stars above, it's bad at this. "Um." It comes around to sit by his side, curls its tail around its paws. A long exhale. She wants to try. "Mind sharin' some of that warmth? Y'look like a big furball sittin' there on your own." It doesn't quite have the dry, prodding humor that she was aiming for. It still sounds vulnerable to her torn ears. She does not lean in, but waits. This kind of affection comes far easier to Braveheart. There is a sort of relief in knowing that all she has to do is ask, even if even that feels difficult.
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@braveheart : ̗̀➛
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FALLOWBITE ⁀➷ she / it, warrior of thunderclan, fourteen moons.
➳ a scarred, pointed brown and white molly with shaggy fur and golden eyes.
➳ standoffish and solitary, always seems to have a dark cloud hanging over its head.
➳baying houndxx npc, littermate to antlerbreeze & doepath.
➳ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
➳ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.