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PRP if peter piper picked a pint of peppers,

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princess of nothing at all
Inactive Character
Statistics
Species
wolf

Sex
afab (she/her)

Age
2

Height
Very Short

Weight
Very Light

Build
Petite

Eyes
sky blue

Fur
icy blues, blue grey, white

Scent
plums and fresh grass

Oddities
bobbed tail, forehead splooch, white toe

Writer

Posts

Threads

jumpy, paranoid, snappy, witty
#6
 
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There was something in the woman’s face she didn’t like. Her sweating and stammering cooled, until she found herself readily irritated. Could she not catch her own meals? Of course she could! Alizée was a capable hunter, maybe not one of the best, but her helter-skelter approach to most things didn’t lend well to stalking and patiently waiting. She made a face like sucking on a particularly tart lemon, the corners of her eyes narrowing.

I am quite aware. She looked sheepish for a moment after the snappish tone left her, but for all intents and purposes, Solulfur had tripped a wire she didn’t know she had. One that sneered rabbit in that cockamamy accent. Alizée dug her claws into the ground, and tried to breathe through the steadily growing panic.

These quail are meant for the infirm, the injured, the young. To teach a child to hunt. To provide as much food as I can in the lean times, when winter comes, if a famine were to hit or an illness struck the larger prey populations. Their eggs are good protein, their shell good for your coat. They don’t require much space, they can’t fly away, and they’re rather ditzy. Should I gather enough, they can be used to teach a child responsibility by taking one of the quail and keeping it safe as possible for a week or two. Admittedly, she was still workshopping that one.

They are more than just prey led to me. I hope they will be able to be farmed, and provide a steady source of nutrition in case we ever have none. Call it paranoia. Call it as hare brained a scheme as she could ever imagine. But Alizée would not allow her pet project to be looked down upon, not even by sun-gold eyes and a voice that rolled through her ears in a smooth, now familiar lilt.

I was in a pack with several of them, a lifetime ago. In a place known as Gossamer, in a valley named after the dawn. Solulfur carried that Crane arrogance she remembered so well, but something more wrapped her voice into a velveteen hammer. Perhaps the other part of her bloodline.

Who is your father? Had she known him, a life ago?

Alizée is often accompanied by a young male Gambel’s quail named Aubergine
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RE: if peter piper picked a pint of peppers, - by Alizée - 3/11/2025, 1:27 AM

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