[It's a bloody good thing that he's a scarf-forged transport waiting for him; the bracelets are thin and light (and glittering when they shine around the borders of his vision, casting everything in paler hues), and yet his tiny shoulders sag under the weight of his regality: a tired little ruler all too ready for his journey home, slinking lower in the crawl down towards the base of a nearby chest so that he can begin prying up necklaces and chokers strung together from pearl, ruby, sapphire and opal— and holding them out with miniscule claws to begin Leto's coronation.
Come here, sweet catulus. Come get your share while he's nearing the end of what his bedecked form can carry.
And a little, swiftly applied headbutt to the bridge of that snout. A lick to seal it once he's close. He might be overwhelmed. Might be deeply overwhelmed, as it so happens, for he can't seem to stop squeaking now— almost inhaling between animistic syllables.]
You— [His nose is wriggling. Crinkling. Scrunching hard. Energy so dreadfully kinetic and inspired that it's hard to know if he intends to fawn forever or bite down on canine skin, his little jerks and pulls suggesting both.
A pup, too, in his own way.] —tease.
[Apparently is what he settles on without control over the end result, still gripping pearl between his talons.]
You thoroughly despise each and every one of those things you've listed— [He's touched. He's touched and he believes in Leto's promise, and therefore all the more can't stop careening in his search for something less beautiful as an excuse. Something less blinding. More equalizing. More— ]
Are you ill? Did one of the pups eat my expensive blouses? Did Ataashi?
looking back on all my anemia caused typos and errors while screaming
Come here, sweet catulus. Come get your share while he's nearing the end of what his bedecked form can carry.
And a little, swiftly applied headbutt to the bridge of that snout. A lick to seal it once he's close. He might be overwhelmed. Might be deeply overwhelmed, as it so happens, for he can't seem to stop squeaking now— almost inhaling between animistic syllables.]
You— [His nose is wriggling. Crinkling. Scrunching hard. Energy so dreadfully kinetic and inspired that it's hard to know if he intends to fawn forever or bite down on canine skin, his little jerks and pulls suggesting both.
A pup, too, in his own way.] —tease.
[Apparently is what he settles on without control over the end result, still gripping pearl between his talons.]
You thoroughly despise each and every one of those things you've listed— [He's touched. He's touched and he believes in Leto's promise, and therefore all the more can't stop careening in his search for something less beautiful as an excuse. Something less blinding. More equalizing. More— ]
Are you ill? Did one of the pups eat my expensive blouses? Did Ataashi?
Did you?