5/16/2025, 3:02 PM
![[Image: Viv_FablePost.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FablePost.gif)
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
In some moments, revelry felt shallow - the type of cut that bled, almost performatively, but didn't sink further than the most superficial capillary. Outwardly, Fable was peachy keen, but on a deeper level, she could not ignore all that she had lost. She was forced to sober.
If she had been crafted from poor fiber, perhaps she would have become entirely downtrodden in her sorrows, lamenting how every hand she was given was a losing one. She never seemed to have the right pieces at the right times and what began as a surrealism painting quickly turned abstract, its aspects jagged, misshapen, and a disjointed echo of what it was supposed to be. When she had thought of herself having a family one day, it hadn't looked like... this.
Three children gone, union dissolved - one of the children would never return beyond the warm presence Fable often felt when she visited Gamma's memorial.
The profound loss and the absence it left in its wake was deafening on the days when she was not so strong - but this day was not one of them.
Fable allowed the honeyed breeze to flow directly into her veins, flitting like dandelion seeds as it scattered and energized the parts of her that were flagging. She would have loved to share this day with Kyros, Eidola, and Gamma, but it was a reality that would not come to pass.
Not in spite of, but because her daughters could not be there, she embraced Beltane for all it was worth. She saw the three of them in the bright-colored blooms, the patchwork of sunlight bleeding through the weeping branches of Aine's Embrace. While they were elsewhere physically, they were far from gone from Fable's mind.
A flower crown sat atop her head, crafted by the pale raccoon her mother had abducted borrowed from Dawnbreak, and he had even been kind enough to outfit her with some well-placed flowers - a little more organized than her usual whimsical application owed to rolling in beds of wildflowers.
She half-listened as Epona demonstrated the dance they were to perform - she knew it well. Fable was born on Beltane and, although she had last danced as a human, it was less about the footwork as it was feeling nature flow through her. It sometimes felt akin to being led by an invisible force, one's body a willing tribute to the beat of the very earth itself.
Her gaze traveled around the congregation, settling finally on Fox.
At first, he appeared greatly interested in his own paws, but not before looking all the part of someone whose greatest dread had become reality - the machinations of nightmares made corporeal against all odds. Fable's brow furrowed as a small, curious smile lit across her lips. Quietly, she dipped into the crowd and made her way to the redhead's side, tapping his tail with her own as she settled in alongside him.
If she had been crafted from poor fiber, perhaps she would have become entirely downtrodden in her sorrows, lamenting how every hand she was given was a losing one. She never seemed to have the right pieces at the right times and what began as a surrealism painting quickly turned abstract, its aspects jagged, misshapen, and a disjointed echo of what it was supposed to be. When she had thought of herself having a family one day, it hadn't looked like... this.
Three children gone, union dissolved - one of the children would never return beyond the warm presence Fable often felt when she visited Gamma's memorial.
The profound loss and the absence it left in its wake was deafening on the days when she was not so strong - but this day was not one of them.
Fable allowed the honeyed breeze to flow directly into her veins, flitting like dandelion seeds as it scattered and energized the parts of her that were flagging. She would have loved to share this day with Kyros, Eidola, and Gamma, but it was a reality that would not come to pass.
Not in spite of, but because her daughters could not be there, she embraced Beltane for all it was worth. She saw the three of them in the bright-colored blooms, the patchwork of sunlight bleeding through the weeping branches of Aine's Embrace. While they were elsewhere physically, they were far from gone from Fable's mind.
A flower crown sat atop her head, crafted by the pale raccoon her mother had abducted borrowed from Dawnbreak, and he had even been kind enough to outfit her with some well-placed flowers - a little more organized than her usual whimsical application owed to rolling in beds of wildflowers.
She half-listened as Epona demonstrated the dance they were to perform - she knew it well. Fable was born on Beltane and, although she had last danced as a human, it was less about the footwork as it was feeling nature flow through her. It sometimes felt akin to being led by an invisible force, one's body a willing tribute to the beat of the very earth itself.
Her gaze traveled around the congregation, settling finally on Fox.
At first, he appeared greatly interested in his own paws, but not before looking all the part of someone whose greatest dread had become reality - the machinations of nightmares made corporeal against all odds. Fable's brow furrowed as a small, curious smile lit across her lips. Quietly, she dipped into the crowd and made her way to the redhead's side, tapping his tail with her own as she settled in alongside him.
Ye look like ye saw a ghost, but it's nowhere near Samhain,Fable hummed, a glint of mischief in her eyes as she looked to him.
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