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Date Posted: 17:19:32 08/08/02 Thu
Author: Xan
Author Host/IP: spider-ntc-ta081.proxy.aol.com / 198.81.16.56
Subject: *smiles weakly at Mignon* I'm here, being vaguely confused by everything...^^; --inside--
In reply to: Xan Keilar 's message, ">.< And the promised RP starter, though it IS complete crap... *suffering from lack of creativity* *slight wince* "So, you're all in a bar..."" on 13:59:48 07/30/02 Tue

((OOC: >.>; My brother has ADD, too. I think he still takes Ritalin... but he was on adderal for a while. mhm. yep. >.>))

The fox smirked at River Tail, eyes catching a somewhat dangerous glint. "Why, River Tail, you surprise me... assuming that vermin activity somewhere would mean misfortune?"

Ah, you goodbeast fool...

"After all," Xan grinned, actually quite amused by all this. Ah, but the otter had made a mistake in saying that... she could have much fun teasing him about this. "I'm hardly an evil vermin killer, am I?"

And, really... she was. And she would admit that readily enough, if he replied with a question about such.

But what he'd said... gods, but that always made her angry. Vermin. Vermin activity in the north... evil befalling his relatives...

Gods.

Squirrels, otters, badgers, and the such... the self-righteous fools. They had the nerve to call themselves 'Goodbeasts,' whilst creatures like she were 'Vermin' simply because they didn't fit in with their silly little lives. Those goodbeasts were the ones that harbored more ill-intent and prejudice than the average fox or ferret. Always chasing the common wandering minstrel or bard away merely because of species. Most woodlanders seemed to regard her kind as some sort of happy little terrorist that would slit their throats as thanks for a warm meal.

And yet, for the most part, she couldn't blame them. Not really. For the most part, prejudices were well-deserved... and, indeed, many 'vermin' would slit a throat for a warm meal.

But that hardly meant they were all that way.

Xan looked over, distracted as the young one began to cry, a high-pitched keening wail that set her teeth on edge. Gods.

She sighed, walking over to the babe and crouching next to her, not touching the small weasle; after all, she was already crying, best not startle her as well by putting a hand on her shoulder.

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