Take three hundred and fifty four
Mal
07-21-2020, 10:44 PM
She winced inwardly whenever Mortis sneezed, though thankfully she schooled her expressions well enough that he wouldn't have thought something was up. Not unless he was looking for it. As she bent down to sniff at an old trail, she casually took a whiff of herself, tail flicking nervously. Had she applied too much of the oils? Mal had done exactly as Aurielle had advised, even enlisting Pachou's help, but perhaps she'd managed to overdo it anyway. She supposed it was better than applying too little. But any sort of attention this season was making her twitchy, and quicker to pull into herself. The patrol was unusually quiet. Mal was lost in her thoughts, surfacing often enough to do her job and not much else. It was easy to brood over the last few days, and each little disaster they held for her. She was adjusting, but not fast enough. Running into Motif had helped, as well as Aurielle. But the other Valhallan... Embarrassment flashed through her at the memory of their meeting; the unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant feelings that had risen just from catching his scent. Keeping her composure had taken all her energy, and she’d left trying to ignore the confusion she felt. It had to be the effects of her heat, of course, how giddy she felt just to be near him. Surely that’s what the Spirit had meant…? A shaky conviction, but one she could hold onto, for now. And anyway, she was always happy to visit her friend, wasn’t she? With the end of the border coming into focus, she brightened a bit, glad to hurry the thoughts away. She bumped against Mortis’ shoulder, tossing a silent grin his way before pulling ahead of him. When there was a fair amount of distance between them, she made an about-face, and settled into her defensive stances. She wore her familiar grin, trying to quell the wild energy underneath. "You were saying something about a rematch?" |
Current time: 11-22-2024, 11:04 AM
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