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  • sleeping badger of a priest

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  1. "Okay, AARM..." She butchered his name awfully, but tried - truly tried. "Good luck, you, bard! I hope our paths will cross again."
  2. "Why would I? What can be better than stories of great accomplishments, which are lighting our souls on fire with inspiration?" This is can be actually interesting, if he has any truth in him. Poor boy. Morgan laid down right where she was previously stuck, and put her muzzle on front paws, getting comfortable. Sun was slowly setting down, and she had nothing to do, really, just recently been eating to a full belly. "I'm Morgan, by the way." She said kindly.
  3. "Heroic, huh?" she smiled, with a little mischief, hidden in a corner of this sly grin - letting his last question pass. "I bet you've done a lot of great deeds, then. Enlighten me! Perhaps, I even heard of you, while travelling."
  4. "Well... Don't touch me, then. And we will get along swimmingly." Morgan huffed, and relaxed, even if just a little. Her expression turned from offended, to disgruntled and after - earnest, in a matter of seconds. Than, she, all of the sudden, bowed. "I owe you. Thank you."
  5. "Sometimes, you just get stuck. That's how things are working." Morgan stretched out, as soon as her freedom returned; like big puppy, she pulled her back, and even turned in a snow a few times, sneezing a little. After this small celebration was done and white one pressed his mouth to her paw, she abruptly moved away from him, almost jumping, pulling up not only her weak paw, pressing it to the fur of her chest, but a strong one, too, in defending stance. Yeah, this gentleman helped her out - but no, no unnecessary touching. Na-ah. She almost bit him, for crying out loud! "Why are you behaving yourself so creepy, lad? For North sake..."
  6. By the end of this concert, Morgan was still stuck. Still held out her one strong paw, uncomfortably. And still didn't even know what to think of it all. Surprisingly, she didn't cover her ears. And even smiled, somewhat genuine this time. Yes, song was quite typical and full of cliches, but it was quite a while since she hard at least somewhat of a music. "That was pretty nice, actually. Needed of a little practice, but still - not bad. Not bad at all." One important thing she didn't mention was her lack of ear for music.
  7. Needless to say, Morgan was not impressed. It was hard to impress her in general, unless the topic of discussion turned out to be something, or someone, who could've, potentially, beat her up - so was the power of respect. But approached silhouette turned out to be... well... At least this gentleman, whoever he was, offered her help? This is nice. This actually can be fun. If they together could figure out a way to unstuck her out of this humiliating situation. "Song of a freedom - that could be nice" she smiled, disarmingly and surprisingly sweet, which was so in contrast with hard voice, handing the stranger her own paw.
  8. To walk through snow meant making every step with strength and caution. Morgan knew it well, living in this cold all of her life; sometimes, when it was specially hard to even try to break the ice crust, she wanted to weep and yell, but never did. Though now, it was more of a necessity, not a question of stinged honor. Since, you see, she stuck. And stuck pretty well. And if only somebody were around to help-- "A little help here?!" she cried in hoarse voice, seeing a silhouette nearby. She sounded more annoyed, than this possibly deadly situation permitted. Nonetheless.
  9. Well, since it's my only character, really, here's ma girl, it's time to do her justice, wrwrwrwr
  10. Even considering how dark and unnatural everything was, out of everything within this misty forest, the most nerving thing was its silence. Its sharp claws were soon ripped deep within her skin, and even her own quite steps were painfully loud. When some god forsaken wind were rumbling through the canopy of ghostly looking trees, which she couldn't even see, this rumbling noise would remind her of a whispers, sometimes even laughter. Whoever they were, laughing at her, she knew, by the sinking heart, that they were close. And they were watching. Deafening silence almost made her scream, this wish even made it to her scar, from which it flinched with sudden pain, but she was too scared to even try to open her mouth. Tired, she almost gave up on her search for anything, anything at all, but shadows of trees and sharp bushes, dragging her by the fur, when she heard something. At first, she thought it was wind again. Playing with her and her spec of hope. But then again - this noise. This familiar noise, and somehow she instantly knew, that it was someones voices. Not threatening, more like tired, and scared a little. Just like me. She made a few steps forward, right until her keen eyesight could make out a far silhouettes of a moving creatures. She felt her fur standing on the back of the neck. It could be danger. It could be someone, who wants to kill her. She didn't believed, that someone could kill her, though, but panic was firm - they can. So her stand was as wary, as possible. She was ready to run, or fight. Canines slowly but surely showed under her lips in warning grin. - Who are you?! - she tried to scream, but instead, her voice came out hoarse and broke at the end, more like a tired growl, than a scream. She scowled at the pain in the throat. Oh, gods, why?! Why would her voice betray her, in time like this?
  11. At the very start, was darkness. Embodying, it took over her body and consciousness, leaving nothing, really, behind. Darkness all it was. Abyss of no thought or emotion, somewhat calm, like a dreamless slumber. And then, suddenly, she grasped for the air, coughing and wheezing, feeling now nothing, but cold, and something wet and metal, which seems to be everywhere: in her mouth, ears, even eyes. Scared, she haphazardly stand on her feet, nearly collapsing from shaking. Wild looking, she started to turn around, searching, like cornered beast, for a way to escape, or at least something familiar. Dark forest and thorns seemed to loom over her small form, trying to grab, and to suffocate. She barely saw nearest trees, and even her own paws were hidden in thick colorless mist. No horizon. No nothing. She felt the panic, rising from her stomach to throat like an acid. She was alone, but scariest of all things was - she didn't remembered anything. Not even herself. But she knew, she knew with all her heart - she must remember. Must remember something, something gravely important, and this loss, which she couldn't even comprehend, not really, was more agonizing, than everything else; like a phantom pain of a long lost limb. Trying to calm down, she took a few steps through opening in the woods, keeping herself low and wary. She can deal with pain later.
  12. Newly forgotten. - Big and fluffy, appears to have sharp claws, fangs and horns. Walks on three paws, right front paw is weak and is always close to the chest. - Has multiple ever-fresh wounds, soaked in slowly dripping dark blood. Scar across the throat makes it hard for her to speak sometimes. Voice comes out hoarse and broken. - Emanates cold. - Always wary of something, but she don't know of what. Feels strange guilt, yet remembers nothing, but pain and sound of running water. - Though seems harsh and coarse, she have a big heart, of which not many know.
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