Private Roleplay how do you find a clown that hasn’t, at least, killed one kid? [crisis] | |||||||||||
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Leviathan
He/Him
Alteron
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Today Leviathan was on a very specific mission. It just so happened that inspiration came to him as soon as he had woken up, and he pulled his large body out of the now ruling Cathedral and out into the open. Usually, he had preferred to avoid any time that held the sun high enough to nearly burn his black pelt, but today felt special. He pushed his muzzle around, picking up various sizes of wood and stones, flipping them over and moving on to something new.
He felt inspired to finally make himself a pile of things to craft from, which he would store in moderate safety back home. Aside from Azuhel's children, there was no one that would find a reason to touch his stash of seemingly useless shit. Well, mostly useless, he thought, as he dug out a rockith splashed of brilliant blues on it, and pushed it into the yes pile, which was growing larger and larger the more rounds he made just around the Cathedral. On what felt like his fifth round, he spotted someone by his stash. Unworried, he moved closer, only to recognize it as one of his sisters. One that he had not really spoken to in quite a lot time. "Crisis," he greeted, not bothering to try and pull a smile for her. Once he got close enough, he noticed some changes, mostly on her bottom half. Her fur seemed to be getting redder, or at least spotted. Leviathan let his eyes train on the spots for a little bit before he looked up again. "How is the water?" he would explain his stash of possible future trinkets and arts if she asked, but he was more interested in knowing if she became anything more than he remembered. What she wanted to tell him was up to her, what she found important would speak volumes. |
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Crisis
she, it
Green Thing
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