Female.
#12. 8 years.
Roe deer influences*.Outwardly typical. Possesses a few mental and physical differences.
Speaks in
#6C90A8.
Melancholic.
Anxious, hopeful.
Drawn to morbidity.
Takes space, craves contact.
Mistrusting, but easily grows attached.
Tumblr.
Toyhouse.
"There is magic in decay.
A dance to be done
For the rotting."
- Dan Chelotti, from "Compost".
"..."
"..."
17th February, 2021
Coming to terms with a personal loss, though not without the comfort and support of those close to her.
23rd of July, 2020
Oh yikes x2, just noticed the last update was over a year ago.
Enjoying some snuggles.
8th of July, 2019
Oh yikes, just noticed last update was over a year ago.
Keeping to herself and a few close friends, for the most part.
Reunited with a nightmare from her past; Renoir. Tried to face him without showing her fear, but crumbled almost immediately under his gaze. Pursued by the wolf leisurely for the most part, until very suddenly he was on her heels. Lost any courage she'd gathered then. Slunk away after he lost interest to calm down in private. Ashamed over the whole thing, that even after all this time, he could still terrify her just as he had years ago.
Found hours later by Fenrir. Conversed with the wolf about a sensitive topic. Initially wary, but by the end found herself tentatively believing him. By no means believes the path ahead will be easy, but given reason to hope.
I can never match how
-
It all feels a little unreal, that only a little while ago it had been raining and her thoughts had turned to him - and then he'd come with the snow instead. Perhaps that says something else, about how much has changed. She finds a mirthful amusement in it, whatever the case.
A little hum of recognition at his movement, so soft it's near silent. It doesn't need to be any louder.
The roe has never heard a Christmas song before, though she's heard the birdsong of many varied species, the familiar melody of a music box and a handful of Icelandic lullabies. This is different, and with the snow that blankets the forest, it sounds like the only thing in the world.
As he sings, she sighs. A content, peaceful sound that has her eyelashes drifting closed. She wonders, idly, what Christmas is and what about it inspires a tune with so much love in it. What makes it feel so much like home?
Nothing he could do in that moment would make her move, and his light shifting proves that true; she's there to support however much he needs of her. The last thing she wants is to cause any disturbance.
Even when the last notes fade, part of her doesn't want to ruin the moment with anything she has to say. After a few wonderful moments of silence, she does anyway.
"I would ad-dore to hear y-you sing more. I've n-never heard m-music like that before."
A pause.
"Thank you..."
He imagines he could sing
"I would be glad to sing for you whenever you might like" he replies, voice soft, terribly so. For a moment he considers launching directly into a new crescendo of musical notes, but he holds back on it instead.
He does not know why she is thanking him. Though he can think of a million reasons why he should thank her. And for a moment, he can almost feel his vocal chords thrum with the inevitable reply, 'I love you. I would do anything for you. Don't thank me. You exist. It is enough. It is so much. I can hardly breathe for the weight of how much you exist.' but he does not. Instead he simply nods, very slightly, hardly a movement at all, and then continues with his soft caroling for his audience of one;
"Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more..."
He'll sing for her until he can sing no more and then hum until the stars burn out.
And soon, tomorrow perhaps.
He'll have to bring her that peppermint.
- It is a mystery as to when
It is a mystery as to when he arrived and when he left. But hidden gingerly in the grass he has left a gift. A pale green swathe of silk tied into a sort of bag with a dark blue ribbon. Tied as such that tugging at the length of the bow will open it.
Inside are a few small things. A smaller blue pouch full of little green peppermints, carefully carved into hearts. And a handmade dreamcatcher, adorned in raven's feathers and beads of pale blue and green.
The last object is simple. A little music box, almost plain in appearance, that when opened, plays a soft melody
He's left a second little satchel too, tied the same as the first but in gold silk with a pale brown bow. A little tag has been attached to it bearing Nidhem's name as well as a little sketch of him just to make sure they both know it's for the little stag.
Inside is a smaller satchel of pale brown filled with yellow peppermints, crafted carefully into stars. and a sturdy stuffed rabbit, made of soft but strong leather, and with no little pieces that might fall off--save perhaps for the ears--which should stand up for a time to any rough play or chewing.
He wouldn't dream of not making sure the stag who has been such a good friend to the one he cherishes didn't get something as well after all.
Finally.
!!!
not sure why I never tracked
thanks all ♥
aa tracking!!
hey there!
Sweet little Butterfly.
♥ Always a pleasure.
Always a pleasure.
You are always cherished,
still definitely the most
Track this lady!~
Thank you!