Borealis

This forest was not going to be a new established Borealis abode, that was certain. The trees were a nice touch, someplace to cat-foot along out of reach of predator and mucky ground but the consistent misting clung to his long hair in a very, very unpleasant manner. Though he'd inherited a coat nearly waterproof by way of his superior breed, having condensation form on the tips of your fur and whiskers was just massively annoying, particularly on a cool autumn morning. The tabby cat huddled on his branch in irritation, striped tail hanging below him and twitching, throwing off little droplets that had formed and run down to the tip. Worst forest ever. ""

safe to say art's just beneath bo's perch?

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?although there is no crown of bone to halo the tyrant?s temples, she still prowls with the finesse of a glorified queen -- incessantly patrolling her cryptic keep as if her claim to the forest has been forged in its perpetual mists. and in a way, it was! for here she has bled and sacrificed and slaughtered, and for this realm she will continue to bleed until the supreme blood of her very veins runs dry, lifeless. and despite her former disinclination for the iron throne, the elysius deity knows it is in her birthright to conquer -- knows she must vanquish alacritia?s subservients not only for her own { pompous } sake, but dually for the sake of her covetous carmine beauty. and she is shrouded in an aura of contempt as she scents the overwhelming { and foreign } stench of a daring invader to her most humble home, mismatched gaze narrowing to feral slits of ice as she sashays in the direction of this fool! yet as the scent becomes intoxicating to the elysius deity with a promise of closing proximities between the tyrant and the trespasser, the phantom?s internal panic commences. for it is evident that her realm has been infiltrated, yet its intruder has gone amiss -- obscured from the phantom?s prying eye. and as the tyrant breaches the epicenter of this foul aroma she halts in her stride, robust form pivoting in a circular motion as she attempts to pinpoint the form of the invader among the shadows of her crypt.