12-22-2019, 05:59 PM
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #c48d85; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]T͏O̴G͠ETH͏ER̕ ÁT̴ ̸T̕H̶E ST͏ART̶ O͏F̀ ̵TI̡M͏E
When the petite vixen heard overlapping voices -- rather sharp in tone -- at the border, her ears flicked back. Biting the inside of her cheek, the medic began trotting towards the sound, brows creasing in concern.
No violence at least.
A dull victory.
Unmatched hues flickered, a fire growing dim. Tired. It took most of her to suppress the disappointed sigh building her chest. Even so, she felt something constrict inside her. A vice tightening with every word traded.
The Pitt. It was always the Pitt these days... If there was some sort of argument or fight... While she did her best to push past it, she still remembered, in vivid detail, the crunch of a trespassing Pittian's neck. Unnecessarily. If they acted just as ruthless as the enemy, they were their own enemy...
Kiira didn't understand. Didn't everyone see the inevitable cycle they could unleash? If Goldenluxury was trying to rehabilitate the Pitt, they shouldn't spit on them... Not unless they just wanted to push them right back down and then they would be back to the start. An endless, bloody, pointless cycle.
And she didn't want to sit in a cell, for moons, wondering why her tribe would rather set the jungle on fire before saving her ever again. They don't get it.
When Redvox began to leave, Kiira did sigh. A heavy, disappointed breath. Maybe she shouldn't expect anything more, but at least someone like Redvox believed in second chances and was willing to stretch an olive branch. It was only when someone did that, things changed for the better.
Maybe she'd go. See for herself. The Pitt were not all Jervis. No. She remembered there being kinder faces. Faces who deserved a second chance.
And Christmas was nice. If he was inviting the Typhoon, maybe she'd get to celebrate with her family. Including her cousins in the Pitt.
An olive branch.
[/td][/tr][/table]No violence at least.
A dull victory.
Unmatched hues flickered, a fire growing dim. Tired. It took most of her to suppress the disappointed sigh building her chest. Even so, she felt something constrict inside her. A vice tightening with every word traded.
The Pitt. It was always the Pitt these days... If there was some sort of argument or fight... While she did her best to push past it, she still remembered, in vivid detail, the crunch of a trespassing Pittian's neck. Unnecessarily. If they acted just as ruthless as the enemy, they were their own enemy...
Kiira didn't understand. Didn't everyone see the inevitable cycle they could unleash? If Goldenluxury was trying to rehabilitate the Pitt, they shouldn't spit on them... Not unless they just wanted to push them right back down and then they would be back to the start. An endless, bloody, pointless cycle.
And she didn't want to sit in a cell, for moons, wondering why her tribe would rather set the jungle on fire before saving her ever again. They don't get it.
When Redvox began to leave, Kiira did sigh. A heavy, disappointed breath. Maybe she shouldn't expect anything more, but at least someone like Redvox believed in second chances and was willing to stretch an olive branch. It was only when someone did that, things changed for the better.
Maybe she'd go. See for herself. The Pitt were not all Jervis. No. She remembered there being kinder faces. Faces who deserved a second chance.
And Christmas was nice. If he was inviting the Typhoon, maybe she'd get to celebrate with her family. Including her cousins in the Pitt.
An olive branch.
© MADI