Cusp of Hope and Sorrow
06-03-2014, 04:12 PM
A call echoed across her home, demanding her attention. Plagued by illness, the Queen was slow to move, but she pressed forward nonetheless. It would take some time, but she would reach the borders, coral pools resting on an unfamiliar fae. Nostrils quivered, picking up the scent of Tortuga. What was a Tortugan wolf doing at her borders? "Can I help you?" Words were hoarse with lack of use. A high fever still gripped her behemoth bodice while bloody tears dripped down her face. Despite the obvious fact that she was will, the Queen still held herself tall, a sense of pride surrounding her. She tried not to appear impatient with an ally standing at her border, but she was very impatient. She was sick, and this was the last place she wanted to be. WORDS HERE |