Post by Gemini on Nov 9, 2020 13:00:07 GMT -5
i have lost too much, try me
[attr="class","frstscr"]There was a lot going through Lynxrush's mind. This was not abnormal, considering the fatality of her kits and late mate. The mademoiselle struggled through her days, in angst, pondering about what's coming next. Plenty of inquires jumble within the molly's mind, unable to comprehend realism from not. Her disconnection from those around her has become to real for her to understand. She needed more friends. Lynxrush focused her center amongst others, reaching a burnout recently. Occasionally her amiable nature is deceiving to herself, causing boundless misery of a voided abyss. It was unfair.
Lynxrush believed there was more to it, as to why her mate and kits were gifted to StarClan so early. Did I somehow deserve this? All I've ever done is served my clan rightfully. If anything, the murder deserves death. She scowled, shaking her crania as she prayed the thoughts would dissipate from her brain. The damsel had been overthinking too much, unable to preform warrior duties without struggle. Lynxrush was pretty efficient, but due to being in the dumps, that wasn't the case. She believed she was disappointing those amidst her, feeling lost.
It was the magic hour, when the sun dyed everything in gold, when it finally stopped raining and the clouds partially disappeared, allowing some sun rays to reach the forest. She left the Warriors' den and started ascending toward the center of camp. The light was sweet and the tepid leaf-fall zephyr after the rain welcomed her like an old friend. The calmly sound of the soft wind caressing the leaf-fall leaves covered her ears. Some of them fell over her while plopping amongst her haunches and she simpered. She missed the smell of the rain, the fallen leaves and the leaf-fall sun. It was mid October, and she could feel the autumn breeze running through her veins, caressing her lungs and lay deep inside her heart, filling her with a nostalgic, calm happiness she had no memories to have felt it before. All that clung to her mind was the death of those she loved and lost.
She began to think of what's next; that being, leaf-bare. When leaf-bareit's arrives, an icy serenade, a coolness to bring out the warmth within. Body heat was an important key in the bitterness of leaf-bare, alongside woolly fur and a possible buddy or significant other to share warmth with. She enjoyed leaf-fall, but not so much leaf-bare, as the more fatal leaf-bares were a struggle to remain warm. The temperatures which made her tremble were despised with pure hatred of the numbing season that was yet to come. Lynxrush began to wander about the upcoming leaf-bare, sighing softly. The feline's honey-golden hues closed, momentarily to think.
The winter is such crystalline joy, those brilliant rays that show the uniqueness of every snowflake to the majority of the young. It is the time of puddles that become transient skating rinks and for the thoughts to remain cozy within the Warriors' Den. It is the time when the sunniest of days are warm even in when anyone can their breath rise as neat and pure vapor. It is the days of quiet poetry forming in thes soul as if it calls to the spring flowers that will soon blossom. She adored the newleaf, which was after leaf-bare. Everything would continue to change, from seasons, to memories, to personalities, to the reigns of each leader.
Lynxrush was filled with thoughts, plenty to be questioned and she'd find a decent response to answer. The molly was a wonderful conversationalist, easy to speak to with her motherly, supportive nature she carries. The way she holds herself is welcoming and gentle, like the arms of a mother who's just reunited with her children after just a mere few days. The joy Lynxrush retained from conversing was genuine, as it was something that always brought a smile upon her face.
Lynxrush believed there was more to it, as to why her mate and kits were gifted to StarClan so early. Did I somehow deserve this? All I've ever done is served my clan rightfully. If anything, the murder deserves death. She scowled, shaking her crania as she prayed the thoughts would dissipate from her brain. The damsel had been overthinking too much, unable to preform warrior duties without struggle. Lynxrush was pretty efficient, but due to being in the dumps, that wasn't the case. She believed she was disappointing those amidst her, feeling lost.
It was the magic hour, when the sun dyed everything in gold, when it finally stopped raining and the clouds partially disappeared, allowing some sun rays to reach the forest. She left the Warriors' den and started ascending toward the center of camp. The light was sweet and the tepid leaf-fall zephyr after the rain welcomed her like an old friend. The calmly sound of the soft wind caressing the leaf-fall leaves covered her ears. Some of them fell over her while plopping amongst her haunches and she simpered. She missed the smell of the rain, the fallen leaves and the leaf-fall sun. It was mid October, and she could feel the autumn breeze running through her veins, caressing her lungs and lay deep inside her heart, filling her with a nostalgic, calm happiness she had no memories to have felt it before. All that clung to her mind was the death of those she loved and lost.
She began to think of what's next; that being, leaf-bare. When leaf-bareit's arrives, an icy serenade, a coolness to bring out the warmth within. Body heat was an important key in the bitterness of leaf-bare, alongside woolly fur and a possible buddy or significant other to share warmth with. She enjoyed leaf-fall, but not so much leaf-bare, as the more fatal leaf-bares were a struggle to remain warm. The temperatures which made her tremble were despised with pure hatred of the numbing season that was yet to come. Lynxrush began to wander about the upcoming leaf-bare, sighing softly. The feline's honey-golden hues closed, momentarily to think.
The winter is such crystalline joy, those brilliant rays that show the uniqueness of every snowflake to the majority of the young. It is the time of puddles that become transient skating rinks and for the thoughts to remain cozy within the Warriors' Den. It is the time when the sunniest of days are warm even in when anyone can their breath rise as neat and pure vapor. It is the days of quiet poetry forming in thes soul as if it calls to the spring flowers that will soon blossom. She adored the newleaf, which was after leaf-bare. Everything would continue to change, from seasons, to memories, to personalities, to the reigns of each leader.
Lynxrush was filled with thoughts, plenty to be questioned and she'd find a decent response to answer. The molly was a wonderful conversationalist, easy to speak to with her motherly, supportive nature she carries. The way she holds herself is welcoming and gentle, like the arms of a mother who's just reunited with her children after just a mere few days. The joy Lynxrush retained from conversing was genuine, as it was something that always brought a smile upon her face.
