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✦ BROKEN CROWN // JOINING
#1
An ache rolls through her body, riding along her muscles and trembling within her legs. Weariness lays thick on her, and though she prided herself on her endurance, she could only walk for so long without feeling the least bit tired. This cold wasn't helping, either. It nipped at her eyes, skin mostly guarded by her heavy coat, every breath stinging her lungs and forming a small cloud before her face when she exhaled. She hated the cold.

The snow crunches underneath her paws, the trail she left making her feel a bit off. She wasn't used to leaving any traces of her presence. She was used to covering it up, coming and going with no one knowing any better. But there was no use to it now. If the paw prints didn't give her away, the scent did.

Then she stops. A foreign scent hits her nose, strong and unfamiliar. She can tell she's not alone, that these parts were home to other creatures. It had been a long trek since she last interacted with anyone else, and she was not eager to do so now.

On edge, the canine lingers there in the snow, carefully trying to figure out her next plan of action. She didn't want to take the risk that these people weren't friendly, as she wasn't in fighting shape, nor did she want to find out if her silver tongue would work on them. So she just chose to sit and wait. Although she knew she could have tried to sneak past, she also didn't want to do such a thing when she didn't even know how many there were.

So she watches, body coiled like a spring, tense and on edge.
TAKE THESE HANDS, WHAT HAVE I MADE THEM DO?
WHAT HAVE YOU MADE THEM FOR?
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#2
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EASTWARD BOUND
ARTHUR MORGAN — MALE — SNOWBOUND — SNOWSEEKER — HARD
More and more often he's seeing people slowly wander into Snowbound. Whether on their own accord or just by happenstance, it's figured out soon enough if not right away. Some stay. Some leave. Some just disappear as quick as the green around here. But he still help hope. Every new face was another godsend to their small group.

The wolf is getting used to the cold now. It doesn't sting and eat away at his paws as much as it used to. The male had been patrolling the area when he caught the scent of someone unfamiliar. Alert and standing tall, he trudged forth through the snow and quickly found West- on edge, she doesn't hide it. His fur smooths down, trying to make himself appear calm and friendly. Non-threatening. "Howdy miss. Name and business with Snowbound."
#psychosocial.
❝ NO TROPHY, NO FLOWERS, NO FLASHBULBS, NO WINE ❞
timber wolf + 3 years + @sympathy —————  he's haunted by something he cannot define
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#3
What's left of her ear twitches, the growing scent reaching her nose and sending her eyes scanning the area around her, settling on the form of someone approaching. She usually wasn't the impatient type, but she couldn't help the exasperated huff that left her maw. Despite the wariness she held, she was relieved to finally see someone, eager to see if she could at least pass through without any trouble. But hopefully they'd be willing to let her rest.

Once the male is standing before her, she studies him closely for a moment, not missing the way he changed his demeanor like approaching a startled doe. She allows her shoulders to drop slightly, unaware of the way she carried her tension. Usually she wasn't the type to carry her heart on her sleeve.

"West," she says simply. It wasn't her real name, of course, simply a cover-up, one she had been going by for a few days now-ever since she found herself wandering. "I was hoping you would allow me a place to rest. It won't be long, just a night or two."

The canine tests her words before she speaks them, not wanting to bring any suspicion to herself. It wasn't like she meant any harm, but she didn't want to have anyone prying into her business, either. Hopefully her stay wouldn't be long, anyway.
TAKE THESE HANDS, WHAT HAVE I MADE THEM DO?
WHAT HAVE YOU MADE THEM FOR?
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#4
[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]It had grown difficult to gauge the passage of time, grown short within the expanse of land choked beneath a thick covering of fine powder darkness clung about the edges, a veil of black stripping from the weak streams of light their strength. Few the snippets of time it felt day had touched this fragment of earth, the hours condensed into the period of early afternoon afforded such, and she enjoyed that short time before the gloom crept in once more. Terse had she grown over the course of the waning day, losing the ragged thread of time, already brittle, crumbling beneath gentle probing.

Behind the dark expanse of red glass her eyes narrowed, fine pinpricks suspended within the mass of lilac, displeasure grown apparent in the way she moved, legs held stiff while the short bob of her tail flicked with each step. Thin was the coat about her body, delicate points of pale flesh apparent where the slight breeze parted it with ease, breath arising in puffs of steam further sapping her warmth. Better may it have been to stay within the cabins, allow herself the chance to relax with the few ragged books she had been able to scrounge up, but age would not stop her, though the ache radiating from her stiff joints may have.

Murmur of voices, broken apart beneath the gentle teasing of the space separating she from those who offered forth conversation and the weak hearing her ears offered, slight the clinging strands of skin perched atop her skull, intrigue within the twist of pale lips. Fragmented plans to return, her exercise for this day drawing to a conclusion for she held no want to continue, falling away as steps turned, slight the bounce within, smooth the transition into hops.

Accustomed had she grown to those of a similar stature, those who had haunted halls choked with cobwebs and cloying shadow of felidae decent yet these were far from such, dark points within the expanse of ivory spread about them. Flicker of memory, touch of passing where all that had been offered was the tilt of a head before on their steps took them of one, though beneath the steady thrum of thought did his name slip, uninteresting within comparison to the other. Worn beneath the clean, almost neutral, tone of the landscape about her faint were the traces of heavy travel, the tone of dust and soil accumulated within the fine furs of her coat easy to detect, drawing her forth with easy steps.

“Well 'ello dere handsome,” honey poured atop gravel, drawn forth from a throat that had seen minimal use within a great amount of time, disuse wearing at each syllable as the nature rasping depth only warped the words further. “Why a course bun, don' see no reason fer ya ta be turned away.” Crunch of paws pressing into the snow, wandering drawing Dogmeat around the stranger, appreciative the gaze roving over her. Indeed was she a sight to behold, though long ago had her days of attempting anything been cast aside, but she enjoyed the thrill of such things, offering pretty words to stroke the fire of ego and allowing herself the idea of something more though she may not pursue it.
[align=center]
[div style="font-family:georgia;font-size:13px;text-transform:uppercase;letter-spacing:2px;color:#718390;"]a bloody war behind my eyes
snowbound elder ▵ albino oriental ▵ the anti-grandma
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