Glaesfaet Sceawere is the name gifted to the mother river that flows through the center of Blossom Forest, bringing life and sustenance to all of the lands. It breaks off in many places, giving birth to smaller streams and estuaries, but the main body flows from the lake high in the north in Dierne Hrof all the way south down through Uyaraut to empty into the ocean. It is a fresh water river, but down through Uyaraut, the salt water does taint it. In places, parts of the river are underground and run through caverns unseen from aboveground.

Water buffalo grace these shores - with plenty of meat, though at a dangerous cost. Many river trout leap upstream daily.


False Goddess (Ploutos)

☁Her bone structure screams “Touch her Touch Her” and she’s got the curse of curves.☁

The beautiful fae moved her seductive body through the beautiful streams and her soft and beautiful paws were soaking wet. Not that she minded, she enjoyed being cleaned. Her body always had a beautiful pack on her body that held scents that made her smell beautiful, herbs that made her coat glow beautifully. Her sweet coat was only luscious and beautiful because of the different products she created for herself. The males in her homeland used to bring her gifts just so they could touch her coat and get to feel the silk that gleamed in the sun. She stopped for a second in the stream and looked down at herself, the lands she walked into was rippled with magik, she felt it flow over her like a warm breeze. It reminded the fae of her mother telling her stories of magik as a pup. Their lands weren’t full of magik nor did magik exist, but their were priestesses that would go to other lands and come back with tales of the beauty. Atakask never thought she’d get to go to a land full of magik, she wasn’t even a priestess from her home lands. Neither was her brother and yet they sent them to this place. She sighed and stepped into the reflection of herself in the stream.

“I wish I could have been someone useful like a priestess, all I am is a siren calling males to her because of her beauty. What good does that do me? It makes me a false Goddess I assure you that.” She snarled at herself and shook her head, feeling her long luscious fur shift and shake with her. She remembered when a male from her lands used to follow her around in hopes of catching a strand of her coat, he felt he would become her mate if he showed her his adoration for her. He was a little to carried away with the idea of her and her father put the poor male in his place. Atakask was then assigned a guard, though that ended quickly when he was caught trying to get at her as well. After that Atakask was trained to fight, her body became agile like a huntresses should be, this made the males want her all the more. Alas, when she started battling them she’d tell them who ever could beat her, he would become her mate. To this day no male had, none of them also called to her like the brutes of this land did. She wanted a strong male, but it seemed like most of them had issues, she’d have to weed out the bad seeds and look for a good one.

With all her grace she walked out of the stream and placed her pack on the stream bank. She nosed the pack open and nudged out this substance she made. It smelled like roses and it made her coat smooth after a long day of wind. Gently, she moved to lay in the water before taking the substance and rubbing it all over herself. She started to hum a song her mother used to sing to her. Once her coat was lathered in this substance she got to work with the comb her mother made for her. Each stroke she did with it straightened her coat out until she was satisfied and went back to the water, allowing the stream to wash over her and rinse it off her coat. Standing back up she padded up the bank and began to slowly shake her coat out, allowing it to fall naturally and beautifully back into place. “I do wonder how many of the males from back home would be panting their way up to me right about now. Especially because of the season.” She rolled her eyes and laid down, gently licking at her paws.

☁You’re making something out of nothing, and jealousy is the cousin, cousin of greed.☁

♍ Temptress ♍ No home ♍ No Mate ♍ Lone Wolf ♍ 645 words ♍

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