drowsydoe

she was an angel born lacking those luxurious long white flight feathers. so she self-destructively plucked her own pinions till her wings grew thin and bled. picking and pulling and stress-molting till her wings became suddenly just as ugly as she thought they were. "Please don't look at me, God. You would be so disappointed"

Remus' den was warm with his and Humphrey's mingled scents. Despite clasping a chaffinch in her maw, Anders still picked out their smell amidst those of the forest. Though she hadn't been living here long, she felt she knew every pawstep of her home. Home... It was still strange to use that word in a positive context. Granted, she wasn't truly home, she had entered Arcadia with the rest of the surviving players, but this paradise of infinite, untouched ecosystems was warming to her. Oleander slipped through the underbrush like a shadow, engaging the smallest shred of her powers to bend the branches and leaves from her path. Dusk was quickly