| Subject: ± Celtic Panther ± |
Author:
Spring Renegade
|
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Date Posted: 14:24:33 12/20/03 Sat
..............................~Spring Renegade~........................
...............The Deepest Circle of Hell is Reserved.......
 .............For Betrayers and Mutineers.............   Raven soars forth, sand trailing behind for his squall was that of the desert. Lofty alas pump twice, using the gained momentum of the act, she turns her elegant chaise to make a second pass over the royal territory. Vocals lift in whale-like call, announcing to the Queen that another was arriving in her lands. With feline grace the raven descends, using four paws to push off the crystals to slow down instead of risk her wings against the icy shards. Velvet pelt is rustled, upon her landing, a prompt seat taken to catch her breath and take note of her surroundings. Dove whimpers inwardly, fearing another to come by and attack one of the darker kinds for being here. She loved this land, and wanted to stay, but after the way she’d been treated she had her doubts. One thing she knew now, Common Sense was the one who would see her now, and even though she was now a spirit she would still love Rage. That would mean respect for one of the females that grew up there right? Well, either way, a ghost couldn’t hurt her or she it. So confused was Renegade, she was at her prime now and treated as child and fool by both races. No longer did she have the appearance of a panther as a whole although parts refused to vanish, she was now undoubtedly an adult dragoness with more than a little will to find her place to settle down or at least become welcome. True enough, she had been welcomed in Rage’s TT, but a part of her knew better…she wanted to heal and teach and learn and create her own image in the next generation. She would never want to fight, and hopefully would never have to. She belonged in the light lands and she knew it. But no one but Rebellion and her own heart would ever hear that. Perhaps now that would change. Hopeful, the primed raven gives her tail a twitch of excitement, bodice shifting in her seat, and chest leaned forward. Ears perk up, intent on capturing the sound of the approaching Queen, as if that very sound might free her from the cage of dishonor this land had thrown her into. Renegade sits with the posture of a cheetah as she awaits, senses searching for the surreal presence intently. | |
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