PRP
⏾ . III
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⏾ . III (
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⏾ . III
-
Machiavelli
-
3/18/2026
for
Dove
Forward dated a bit! Slightly vague since I don't know how his other threads will turn out <3
The moon glittered overhead, its light diffusing through the fog, glowing just bright enough to lure travelers into a false sense of security. It was a beacon, guiding anyone brave, or stupid, enough to pass through the woods toward whatever lay beyond. Bare trees, robed thickly in hoarfrost, stood like armored guards—warning away any who dared trespass into a land that seemed meant more for spirits than for living flesh.
But Machi had died, hadn’t he? When he came here. Or something close enough to count.
And he intended to discover what was glowing faintly through the trees.
— All art by me!
RE: ⏾ . III
-
Dove
-
3/18/2026
:
Machiavelli
: phone post
: dont mind her scattered rambling, I'm a little rusty
Pale lashes fluttered open, pupils flared wide before restricting to let just the right amount of light in. One blink, then two as she focused her vision to her surroundings. All memories of her time here before had been wiped clean, like chalk on an ebony board but this time when she woke up she remembered the life she had
before
. Ah, well that was unfortunate.
A sign escaped her lips as she watched her breath escape in small whisps of smoke before her gaze landed on the small skull between her paws. The moon caste a beam on her through the frost covered trees, a soft glow seemed to caress her ivory fur as she examined the wolf skull that she thought would be bigger seeing how it had to belong to one of those that had once controlled her every waking moment. They had been bigger and yet this skull was about the size of her own, she tilted her head at the thought. Or was it her own? She did not remember perishing. How strange.
RE: ⏾ . III
-
Machiavelli
-
3/19/2026
I am also horribly out of practice so it is no worries at all really lol
The glow drew him deeper into the wood; a queer, flickering green that reminded of tales pilgrims would tell of Will-o-wisps.
His skin prickled as he scanned the trees. This place put him in mind of memories that best lay forgotten, Old Godsmouth chief among them. Strip away the snow, flood the ground, and the resemblance would be uncanny.
Drifts of snow swallowed up his pawsteps. Each one sank deep, dragging at his usually light movements. If he had to run, it would not be far, nor with any great speed. Still, he kept moving because even his eyelashes were freezing, and stopping would be worse.
Then he saw the figure, half-lost in the fog, and toying with something. A skull, he thought.
He slowed, slipping into a deeper swath of shadow.
No.
No, not today, thank you.
— All art by me!
RE: ⏾ . III
-
Dove
-
3/19/2026
: phone post
: You write wonderfully
For a moment, she was frozen. Eyes of crystal and flame focused on the small skull as if she was examining every detail but in reality a scene was playing out in her head, one when she was in another life, under someone else's control. Then a twig snapped, the play fell away and she returned to the reality of her situation. Movement caught her eyes, first a flicker of something green and then... was that another like her?
Her teeth clamped over the small bone before she shifted it and allowed the skull to settled in the tight curl of her tail. She wiggled the appendage and found that if she didnt wag it too fast it would stay nestled in her fur. Slowly she lifted herself off the ground and turned towards the one who hid in the shadows, her head tilting slightly before she tried her luck.
Hello?
Her voice questioned in a sweet and velvety tone.
RE: ⏾ . III
-
Machiavelli
-
3/20/2026
He hadn’t expected to be noticed so quickly.
The voice was familiar, not in sound, but in intention. It was the very same velvety softness he himself wore when he wanted something. He couldn’t trust it.
Shit,
he hissed.
The man unveiled himself from the murk, staggering for a half-breath before bowing in an elegant, practiced arc. Tone was not the only familiar thing about this stranger, it seemed. He recognized himself in the curl of her tail, the softness of her features. How long had it been since he met another like himself?
Hello,
he returned, moonlight slipping across his fur in cold, shifting beams.
My friend,
a disarming smile smoothed the dog's features,
I did not mean to disturb your meditations.
— All art by me!
