[The Royal Bastians of Arbonne | Info & Adoptables]

Imogen was getting used to life on her own, though she readily dreamed about living with a group once more. It was difficult to deny the simplicity of living with the company of only herself, but Imogen did not seek simplicity. She sought extravagance and excellence in all things, never shying away from displeasing others or stirring the pot. A little drama only added spice to life, did it not? Without Koga, her life was definitely more bland. It needed some sal de mer or herbes de provence, and quick!

A cold wind blew, and Imogen shivered. She was used to the cold by now, but it still cut like a knife – and this gust, especially. It blew with such ferocity that Imogen wondered if a storm was rushing in, and she cursed Jesus for somehow cursing her with an existence that required her to weather storms without as much as a tent to shield her – but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Imogen hadn’t realized that she closed her eyes, until they were open. Across her field of vision, very close indeed, was a smudge of pale pink. Imogen narrowed her eyes, seeing if she could see what it was. She shook her head from side to side and it fell from the bridge of her snout, floating towards the ground below. Imogen then pressed her coal-black nose into the velvety curves of the flower petal, unsure where it came from. She immediately forgot about the impending storm, and lost any awareness of her surroundings.

If there was someone nearby, la contessa had no idea.

skill: [none]