04-02-2021, 06:18 PM
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[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px"]HOW DO YOU RUN FROM Y[color=#5d8e93]OUR OWN MIND?
The petite deer-fox had been preoccupied. Had a garden to repair. Regrow. She had not heard of Jormungand's children. Would not approve the most of the circumstances... Given Coalition ties. She harbored a great deal of rage at the Coalition. Mostly at Stryker. Now dead. Still, she didn't trust them. Didn't care for them.
But children. Children didn't have any say in where they were born. They were just children. And the fleshweaver, with a satchel full of seeds, paused at the sight of one. A cub kicking a stone.
Hazel hues flickered. Searching for anyone who may be watching the child. Or could be the cause of the frown on his face. Finding none, Aine blinked, readjusted her satchel and trotted over. "... Hey," she offered softly. "Are... Are you okay?"
[/td][/tr][/table]But children. Children didn't have any say in where they were born. They were just children. And the fleshweaver, with a satchel full of seeds, paused at the sight of one. A cub kicking a stone.
Hazel hues flickered. Searching for anyone who may be watching the child. Or could be the cause of the frown on his face. Finding none, Aine blinked, readjusted her satchel and trotted over. "... Hey," she offered softly. "Are... Are you okay?"
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