|
|
Post by Songwind and Brawn Oakbrush. on Mar 2, 2008 16:26:28 GMT -5
**The dim room was barren, except for some boxes, a small pallet of straw, and a peice of purple cloth covering the pallet. A small squirrel prowled into the room, lighting lanterns, and unpacking clothes. Anyone who looked could tell who this short maid was the minute she wrestled out a purple dress from a sack thrown over her shoulder.
As she replaced the clothing into boxes, The brown eyes search the building for something. A friend. Thats what Song had missed the most. Thats why she came home. Song placed the sack on the ground and took of her cloak, tossing it on the nestlike pallet. The squirrel healer breathed deeply, savoring the smell of the barracks. Home...What a lovely word....** Hello?
|
|
|
|
Post by Calathea and Boreal on Mar 5, 2008 17:55:32 GMT -5
**The flickering jade gaze of a powerful, brawny young male otter peered at the room from a half-opened door. Boreal's friendly eye roamed around the small enclosure, before falling on Songwind. The otter tilted his head, scanning the squirrel healer, before his face broke out in a smile. From his quick examination, Boreal could deduct from her familiar style that she had been here once before. Perhaps she was just coming back. To meet her friends. The otter, though sometimes rowdy, often tried to be mild and gentler around ladies, not wanting to set a bad example. He slipped into the room quieter than falling ease, merely standing in the doorway, waiting for Song to acknowledge his presence. Boreal spoke softly, his voice a mere whisper.**
Do ye need help unpackin', miss?
OOC: Hi Songwind! Haven't seen you since that PM on DAB about Vira's picture!
|
|
|
|
Post by Songwind and Brawn Oakbrush. on Mar 5, 2008 20:51:53 GMT -5
OOC: Vira? Is that you? Hi!!!!!
BIC: **Song looked over at the otter and smiled gently, her pretty face creased into it's most common shape. The squirrel eyed the otter carefully, as if trying to decide who he was. She turned slowly towards him.
It was funny, every time someone talked to her, they called her Miss. She wasn't that young was she? Oh wait, yes she was. At 19, the squirrel was probaly younger than most, and yet she still had savored many homecomings. Even as she searched the otter's face, she couldn't deduct whether or not they'd met.
Of course, lots had happened while she had gone.**
Hello! No, I'm doing just fine, although it was kind of you to offer. I'm Songwind. Who are you?
** She blushed, thinking to herself how foolish she was for asking the question like she did.**
|
|
