4/29/2025, 11:42 PM
![[Image: Viv_FablePost.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FablePost.gif)
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
His words rang true, perhaps a little too true given her recent parting from Archon and the disappearance of two of her brood, who she arguably considered to be two of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Although she thought it, she gave nothing away in the carriage of herself as she settled to his side, taking in the colorful scene. There had been a time when she thought Archon's face was something beautiful, and perhaps it still was to someone, but her festered hurt had transformed it into something grotesque to suit the things he had said and done to her. So often, her feelings painted the canvas upon which she viewed others, whether it was a fair appraisal or not.
She was no great survivalist beyond plant life, foraging, and healing, but it warmed her to know others were looking out for her well-meaning brood. Given she was essentially a single parent now, she needed all the help and support she could get in that matter and many others.
Fable listened attentively as Fox suggested some options for removing the foxglove and then a small story about his mother and Äiti. Gamma's name brushed the scar tissue her memory lay beneath, but she weathered it more gracefully than she might have a month or even two ago.
Briefly, she wondered if they might call to Gamma beyond the veil; perhaps the fae would deliver the words Fable spoke when she visited. Fable wondered the finer points of transplanting the foxgloves to Veilkeep, but she was reluctant to put Fox in harm's way - perhaps if they simply dumped them there, some of them might propagate without their direct coaxing.
Her brows rose when he informed her she would not be touching the foxglove and the surprise coalesced into an expression nearing impish.
She met his meaningful gaze with her green eyes, twinkling with artfully subdued tease. Although she knew he was right - she had daughters to keep safe - it didn't mean she would dismiss an opportunity for a little mischief.
Fable stepped closer, bumping her shoulder against his as she quirked a brow in his direction, looking to him sidelong.
While she wouldn't argue Fox's case, she was unwilling to let harm find him all the same. There was a nearby cache of pelts she had gleaned from the caches over time, typically reserved for healing endeavors or transferring herbs and other items from one place to another - but they could be useful here, if Fox was careful in the pressure he used when extracting the purple-bloomed bells.
Aye, that is th' way o' it sometimes,she returned, her own lips curving into a smile that only deepened as he alluded to the real reason he was concerned: the girls.
They think with their hearts an' eyes right now an' th' world is still so new - when they were born, th' world was already in its bed and prepared t' sleep. But now it is awake, an' there is much t' teach them.
She was no great survivalist beyond plant life, foraging, and healing, but it warmed her to know others were looking out for her well-meaning brood. Given she was essentially a single parent now, she needed all the help and support she could get in that matter and many others.
Fable listened attentively as Fox suggested some options for removing the foxglove and then a small story about his mother and Äiti. Gamma's name brushed the scar tissue her memory lay beneath, but she weathered it more gracefully than she might have a month or even two ago.
We believe th' fae rest within them, an' that is why ye mustn't touch them - th' toxins are t'protect them from those who might wish t'harm them,Fable offered.
It is poetic that something so lethal is not as simple as ye think, as for your Mother an' Äiti.
Briefly, she wondered if they might call to Gamma beyond the veil; perhaps the fae would deliver the words Fable spoke when she visited. Fable wondered the finer points of transplanting the foxgloves to Veilkeep, but she was reluctant to put Fox in harm's way - perhaps if they simply dumped them there, some of them might propagate without their direct coaxing.
Her brows rose when he informed her she would not be touching the foxglove and the surprise coalesced into an expression nearing impish.
Mister Fox,Fable began, her tongue light and peppered with falsified shock and offense.
Are ye tellin' your Matriarch what she can an' cannot do?
She met his meaningful gaze with her green eyes, twinkling with artfully subdued tease. Although she knew he was right - she had daughters to keep safe - it didn't mean she would dismiss an opportunity for a little mischief.
Fable stepped closer, bumping her shoulder against his as she quirked a brow in his direction, looking to him sidelong.
Ye are lucky I'm not in th' mood t'punish,she added, her tone settling somewhere between hum and muse - but trimmed with jest all the same.
While she wouldn't argue Fox's case, she was unwilling to let harm find him all the same. There was a nearby cache of pelts she had gleaned from the caches over time, typically reserved for healing endeavors or transferring herbs and other items from one place to another - but they could be useful here, if Fox was careful in the pressure he used when extracting the purple-bloomed bells.
![[Image: Viv_FableFB.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FableFB.gif)
