Many wolves looking for relaxation come to Blossom Field. A gentle breeze vibrating the blossoming flowers is quite a sight to see and it is quite a favourite for wolves to come with their mates.
A recent fire has ruined the scenery, half the field covered with soot and marked with scars of the flames. The other half is untouched, however.
IP: 76.120.116.69
Posted on July 30, 2013 at 04:25:40 PM by Macartni
The creamy fae saw the white wolf from awhile. Should she go up and sit with him? Of course; she was feeling the need to be sarcastic. The vixen trotted up to the brute and started off with what her heart wanted; to let go. “"Hello. May I sit here with you? Oh wait, my butt is already on the ground. Looks like you're stuck with me.” The lady started to sit when the brute’s vocals reached her ears. “Well, technically you aren't sitting yet... Never mind. Weren't sitting." The girl raised an eyebrow. This was going to be a fun day. “I am Macartni.” She waited as the sun wrapped around her small paws. The boy seemed to be from Germany or had a mother and father that were from there; his accent explained it all. Macartni flickered an ear when he spoke again. "I am Gilbert Beilshmidt. But you may address me as 'Highness' or preferably 'Your Awesomeness'." The vixen nodded as he winked. “Well, hello Gilbert; it is a pleasure to meet you. Lovely day, isn’t it?” Macartni looked around the area and saw the flowers look brighter than they did when she first came across the field. “I usually don’t sit in the middle of a field of flowers with strangers I don’t know, so this day is quite out of the ordinary.” A moth flew over her aud and she snapped her jaws up at it. Taunting her, it meandered away in its flight. Was the world trying to be like this just to annoy her? Yeah, probably. The dirt underfoot seemed to get softer and the grass that was above it was still wet with dew. It was strange to be in a place that felt innocent and different, but the ess guessed that it would be a little better since half of the field was dark and ash-ridden. That seemed a bit more her style. Even the clouds at this time of day were perplexed. They were complex and seemed out of order, not caring a rat’s behind about who are what did something where or how. Whatever; she lived days like these what seemed like every day. “So, tell me about your German accent. Are you from Germany, a German heritage?” The fae didn’t really know how else to start the conversation. Gilbert even had a German last name, which made sense that the rest of him was total German. Did Macartni even have a last name? The sun seemed to not change as the day did not move forward, and the vixen sat waiting for the brute to answer. Why didn’t she have a last name? |
