09-04-2020, 08:04 PM
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TYPHOON
NECRO MAMBAS
NECRO MAMBAS
[div style="width: px; font-family: GEORGIA; color: #422426; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"][align=center]ARE YOU GOOD WITH CHAOS ?!
Moonshine bottles clanked together from every step the ocelot took. The healer’s Typhoon scent and the noise announced her arrival in Tanglewood’s town better than any verbal announcement; useful, given her labored breathing. The feline took a seat in the town square, smack in the middle of the lumpy marble statue’s shade.
The witch cast off the satchel, shaking her head and cooling down without the leather sticking to fur. Her four eyes locked onto it, and she used her magic to levitate the bottles out of her bag. Each glass looked wildly different from the other, and each appeared to be a liquor bottle with the label peeled off. Upcycling or sheer laziness? Rosemary thought of it as practical.
“I’m here to trade for… romance books, specifically queer women romances, but I'll look at any books you're willing to part with,” Rosemary sighed. Since her house burned down, the witch missed the comfort fiction. The Typhoon’s library made up nonfiction, with the occasional fiction of a higher narrative quality. Rosemary enjoyed reading those types of books as well—she read far more ideological and war strategy books than any outsider would expect—but sometimes she wanted her trashy romance novels, okay.
She cleared her throat, holding a paw to her muzzle. “And herbs local to your area, of course. I have herbal ointments and teas, as well.”
[/td][/tr][/table]The witch cast off the satchel, shaking her head and cooling down without the leather sticking to fur. Her four eyes locked onto it, and she used her magic to levitate the bottles out of her bag. Each glass looked wildly different from the other, and each appeared to be a liquor bottle with the label peeled off. Upcycling or sheer laziness? Rosemary thought of it as practical.
“I’m here to trade for… romance books, specifically queer women romances, but I'll look at any books you're willing to part with,” Rosemary sighed. Since her house burned down, the witch missed the comfort fiction. The Typhoon’s library made up nonfiction, with the occasional fiction of a higher narrative quality. Rosemary enjoyed reading those types of books as well—she read far more ideological and war strategy books than any outsider would expect—but sometimes she wanted her trashy romance novels, okay.
She cleared her throat, holding a paw to her muzzle. “And herbs local to your area, of course. I have herbal ointments and teas, as well.”
© MADI