Well, my forest connection was good this morning, then all the forest stopped, a deer who was moaning had his picto in big at my screen's border for... everytime. Some people who was running ran in the same place. I also restarted the game, and now, I can't to loggin again.
...make a blog or account page so good looking with pictures on the background and different colours? =P I see it a lot and I was wondering how to do that, hoping it's not too technical for me. =P
I wanted to make a nice biography for my little Luna but I don't know how to do that in the way most people do. I guess I have to do something with "Input format" and "Filltered HTLM" or something? Is there any way to make a nice page in a easy way? =P
It happened every single year, and today was no different. Only this time, there was an intensity not quite present in years past.
The group had holed themselves in the living room, not a word spoken between any of them. In the farthest end of the living room, a small dual-coloured fox was sunning herself on the sill of the bay windows; the orange peppered fur that glowed in the sunlight gave the impression of her being on fire, though she hardly looked disturbed by the heat her dark body was absorbing. Beside her on the floor was a considerably larger creature; adorned in garland trappings that coiled around his tines, yellow and white flowers peppering the moss that made up his frame, he too was sunning – for a very different reason.
Sprawled on the light blue carpeting in the middle of the room were three other deer. One was a small Muntjac doe, though her male build could have fooled a stranger; she was resting on the back of a larger doe, her magpie markings shimmering in the light that peeked its way through the windows. Curled up against the side of her stomach, ears flickering occasionally, was yet another doe – this one was even smaller than either of her two floor mates, her tiny brown body hiding her face.
The magpie doe turned to look at the final occupant of the room; her coat was pure white, contrasting the more neutral fabric of the couch she was occupying. Black tipped ears swiveled forward as glassy gold eyes came to rest on the blues that started back at her; she watched as the magpie’s eyes traced the fishnet that decorated her front legs.
“Do you like them?” The white doe asked, her voice low, slightly scratchy. The magpie’s eyes returned to hers, locking.
“They’re certainly different, that much I will say.” The magpie deadpanned.
