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[WP] Bourré

Mon, 17 Aug 2026 02:22:38 -0400

It turned out there was more to partying than eating excessively.

Zeek had found the smashed up berries, so very like the ones Papa kept stashed and Saga had indulged in. But these ones were — different? A little sweeter, not so sour, and they even had... flavours. As in, multiple. So, unwilling to pass up a free indulgence, Zeek sampled them all.

Now his head was floaty, and the rest of him kind of couldn't really keep up with it. But he felt good. Really good. Like he could take on the whole world. He sat out on the heights overlooking miles of rippling jungle and howled.

Loudly.

Piercingly.

Cosmic debt

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 23:21:31 -0400

✫ Skill ✫

--- (1/5)

Second day of Tianlong wedding |

Time took no prisoners, and she was no exception.

Beneath its toil, she was reduced to this - to nothing. A dying husk of a body that once housed life - her own, that of her children. Perhaps they, her children, were the only things she'd ever done that were worthwhile in her ephemeral life.

As heartbeats slowed, she thought of them. Of grandchildren, of nieces and nephews and the siblings who preceded her in the departure she knew was near. Her life had been long - too long, but also not long enough. Never long enough to fill the emptiness she carried with her always. The sensation of something missing, unseen and unspoken yet too quiet to demand true space. A specter, just out of grasp.

In these candid moments where she lingered between what was and what would never be, she pulled a quilt of moments around her. Flashes of gapped-tooth grins and hours spent at the kitchen table poring over math homework she could have sworn had never been as difficult "back in her day." Of quiet moments, the ones that mattered, but passed too quickly. Of birthday parties and weddings, all of it - every single memory - set against a manicured backdrop. Something manufactured and hollow and idyllic in its presentation yet lacking substance. The simple brush of the pad of a thumb would expose what lay beneath the gold leaf: Nothing.

The thoughts - the memories, she recognized distantly - were as soft as a caress and somehow not at all. They left her stinging and wanting for softness, a soul-deep hunger that was permitted only to ache, unfed as it gnawed on the rinds.

Her focus slipped.

The meager warmth she had curled into fled through the cracks in her aged fingers, grains of sand worn from a life eroded by the resolute march of time. She lacked the capacity to chase them but she reached inward all the same, trying to slap together patches in the yawning holes of her mind.

She was too late, or perhaps it was all a part of a schedule on some grander scale. This was always going to happen, it was written in the stars; the moment she drew her first breath, the promise of her last had already been written. Every moment, every flux of her lungs between the two waypoints, had been predetermined. Intentional. Weighted. She had been tasked only with discovering all that spanned them. She was an unwitting passenger to fate's unraveling.

Kismet.

The word summoned a final vision, one that proffered her the embrace those of her children and grandchildren had brought, yet already lost. Desperate not to relinquish it this time, she clung to the memory as it burned - the brightest light before the dark.

She was awash in a sea of bodies despite the vast expanse of desert. A fire burned with an intensity so great she could have run for miles and still felt it against her skin. She felt alive - when had she last felt that way? The world drummed a rhythm she was powerless to resist, its tempo ripping through the veil she hid behind.

She was vital.

She was free.

Lawless.

Unfettered.

She was the fire at her back and the cosmos above her. At once, she was everything in a way she had never permitted herself to be as she lost herself in the music and the tide it pulled her through.

She was furious.

Furious at the world, at Augustine, at her family, at herself. At the things she could change and those she couldn’t - at the vacant space resting in her hands where power should have been. The power to weave dreams, the power to choose what she actually wanted.

She was the dying light when the day balked before its surrender.

Her dancing stilled when her eyes met his.

He should have blended into the crowd like everybody else, but she noticed him as though there wasn’t another soul around. He noticed her, too, and their stare communicated more than words ever could have.

Something in her chest stirred, the shifting of tectonic plates as they rearranged themselves for her. Primordial. Expectant. The whole world held its breath in wait. It was the natural progression of events, as automatic as her heart's next beat. She couldn’t explain it, but they had always been meant to meet here, now, inside this moment. A covenant whispered by time itself and pressed into her gritty, sweat-slicked skin.

“Kismet,” she had said - to herself, to him, to the universe. To ears unhearing.

She tasted the word even as the visual faded, forming silently on weathered lips so many decades later.

Her first breath was full of salt.

It cut an oceanic streak through the land's calling card, its novelty standing out against the depth of foliage and other scents she could not identify. Behind closed lids, she was blind to what unfurled around her, small ears twitching in response to dancing boughs and the distant chatter of others.

For a moment, as ephemeral as frost to the rising sun, she was detached from it all. A closed-eyed spectator slowly thawing to the world, suspended in a distant recognition. The whelp lay half-curled on the ground, her side flat to the earth and pale blush fur smooth - as if she'd been placed where she was by some higher power - and perhaps she very well had been. A star was kissed to her forehead and a smudge of a blood oath pressed to her chest, both sentiments from a lifetime long gone.

But she didn't know that - maybe she never would.

As wakefulness spread over her, whatever lingering connection she had to the life before became frayed - splintering more as seaglass eyes cracked open and she shrank away from the bloom of light. Squinting against the pain, she wrinkled her nose and attempted once more to gather understanding of where she was.

Her forepaws-

Wait, paws?

Something akin to wrongness spun within her stomach and her brows furrowed contemplatively as she stared at the pale appendages crossed before her. She wasn't supposed to have paws, was she? The nameless pup lifted one of her awkward limbs, studying the padded bottom of each digit with confusion. While she knew this was not the form she was meant to have, she knew not what it should have been.

Grass rustled nearby and her attention snapped toward it, eyes honing in on the unfortunate rabbit who foolishly lurked too near to not only her, but the other wolves rising for the day's festivities. The vestiges of alien sensation faded at once - a fog decimated by an overbearing sun. At once, she was on foreign paws and in pursuit of her lapine quarry.

[WP] the line is just so fine

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 23:07:52 -0400

and maybe later on <3 set the night before everybody leaves

Cosette had, surprisingly enough, enjoyed the partying. She'd always wanted to go to parties like this when she was younger, imagining drinking with her friends and laughing and playing until the sun came up. It had never been possible in her previous life, stolen away from her and replaced with chains and cuffs and a man who always seemed to find more to take.

Baal had made it so much easier to not think about him, but while the partying was fun, something was nagging at the back of her mind. Occasionally she'd catch a scent or hear a voice that verged just on the edge of too familiar, but she rarely left Baal's side, so it was hardly an issue.

Now it seemed like the whole world was asleep. Cosette could not, however, so used to being awake at night that her body outright refused to fall asleep. So she walked around instead, enjoying the sights and sounds of the forest and tried not to feel like someone was following her.

The beach was nice, cool and sandy beneath her paws. Cosette stood on the edge of it, right where the trees met sand, and looked out at the expanse of water.

It was a pretty night, she thought, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Give Birth — Euphemia x Adonis

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 20:26:30 -0400

Birth Application: x

Birthing Thread

Parents

Offspring

, , ,

Link to Pregnancy Application

https://vivariumrpg.com/showthread.php?tid=12177

Date of Birth

08/15/2026

Birthing thread

Birthing Thread

[wp] cottonwood

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 19:22:17 -0400

DAY 2 | pre-wedding ceremony

Early morning has a bite to its chill. Silver keeps close and warm, lead through the crowd by a feathered tail brushing against his paramour's shoulder. They enjoy the bounties of the hospitality Tianlong provides. Silver notes the kind of quarry offered, the spices on the meat and the amount of fruit and honey drizzled over it as he picks through the breakfast buffet and offers Finnegan treat after treat, coaxes the physician into trying new things and grins at him with a practiced kind of adoration that comes easily. Tianlong's gifts are given freely, for they are only the sweetness to make the bitter taste of the Dynasty's lauded power go down easier for those who understand the truer nature of this sort of diplomacy.

Silver does not hold it against them. This is strength. This is peace. This will maintain those two things better than war, better than subjugation through orphaning children, widowing women, burning enemies to ash.

Familiar faces are hard to spot among the crowds, but is difficult to miss. Silver offers a honey-soaked blueberry to be taken from his palm, a warm affection aglow on his features, even as he spots a half-tailed brick wall moving through the masses swarming for breakfast before the ceremony kicks off. Silver's ears pricked, gaze flitting back to Finnegan. One of my crew is right there - shall we say hello?

[wp] juniper

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:41:42 -0400

DAY 2 | lantern ceremony, late

A beautiful wedding ceremony. A delectable feast. Song and poetry, perfume and lilting chatter fill the cooling night air. The energy of the celebration infuses into Silvercreek's blood, shapes him into a giddy and acquiescing creature. He is incense and glee, the sharpness of alcohol and the way it sweetens the world for those affected by its buzz. He navigates the crush of the crowd with Finnegan, stray stranger's fur and fingers brushing against his skin from all directions. It's nostalgic in a way that twists a knife deep in Silver's belly. He remembers nights like this. Opulence to make the cage he was trapped in more gilded, filigreed with finery as if it could ever mask the shape of the bars. There's a homesickness in him for a pleased smile, carving across a familiar face when the silver creeps up and murmurs the latest tidbit that will secure the tyrant's throne into waiting ears. He tells Finnegan he's off to convene with his own, leaves him to the charming presence of some royal or another, and slips away to stew in his own self-loathing.

Silvercreek pays little mind to the direction his paws carry him, until he's at the water's edge and there's a massive spot of shadow to his right. The cool night air warms around the figure, and a kind of danger Silvercreek is rightfully, highly attuned to noticing seems to seethe off the swell of darkness.

Everything stirred within his soul starts to settle, again. Old memories and conflicting feelings, the sensation of spinning from either drink or dancing, the taste of a thousand different fleeting faces, fades underneath the looming sense of doom that eclipses part of Silver's mind. He sinks into a sphinx-like perch in the grass, stretches a paw out to set a ripple expanding from the lightest touch of a claw to the surface of the glowing water.

He can breathe clean air, here, sweet with the scent of water and moss. It's quiet, and Silver sits just within arm's reach of with little concern over a groping paw or bear-trap of jaws snapping shut around his throat.

Silvercreek should say something, play his part, shape the narrative. He should get up and walk away, fling himself into his lover's arms and find a spot to let the sweet heat of their lovemaking burn unwanted ponderings to ash.

The silver does not move, but for shaping the water's ripples and swirling current to his liking with a single paw.

[wp] [birth] sailed on a river of crystal light

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:27:00 -0400

welcome to all dawnbreak attendees
& any relevant tianlong dignitaries!
Please let post first.

Welcome , , & <3
Euphemia goes into labor on August 14th,
and y'all are born on the 15th! Yay!

Deep within the jungle, hidden behind corded vines, the new mother gazed at her brood.

There were four of them.

Some souls could boast that they had been born during a storm; and perhaps the electrical qualities of the atmosphere in which they entered had lent them some sort of spark, or vibrancy to their personality. Maybe they even boasted the name Stormborn, as she knew some northern warriors to embody.

For this reason, Euphemia had so wanted her own children to be born into a place that was solid and felt of home. The place they would come to know as their childhood sanctum, for all their life. They would have a wonderfully boring life, with near to no challenges, and nothing they could want that could not be theirs.

Maybe she should just give them all the name Téng, of the royals here in Tianlong, since that was where their first breaths were taken. Not amongst the Frostfang mountains as her own birth had been; but somewhere strange and foreign and beautiful. It was momentous, jarring, and overwhelming; all of it. Every single detail.

Perhaps that was why her children had chosen that moment to arrive – they hadn’t wanted to miss out.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Discomfort had become the forefront of her attention during the wedding ceremony itself. She could not sit still, could not shift enough from one side to another, and at several points her maw split into a very apparent panting breath. Even all that night, through the festivities, Euphemia found herself strangely unwilling to engage. She was despondent, tired. She wished to retire early.

Euphemia had hoped to face the next day’s games and contests with a renewed sense of energy and spirit, but sleep did not touch her during the night. The children within her moved endlessly, and did not cease even despite her wishing them to.

The violence and power demonstrated amongst the warriors had her stomach gripping painfully, and eventually she turned to Adonis and begged him with the most pleading eyes possible to abscond to a place more private.

When her betrothed took her by the arm and whisked her out of the jostling crowd, it was with thighs wet with water and womb aching in anticipation.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Soon she would place them at her belly, but for now, the four little bundles lay in a perfect little row betwixt her front paws. It was as if they did not yet know they were born, for all the subtlety of their movements and mewling. Euphemia was left wordless as she looked at them, unable to believe that these little creatures in their dazzling array of colors and patterns were hers.

The first to be born was a son, which felt so perfectly poetic – somewhere deep inside, she felt proud of this. He reflected Adonis so perfectly in coloring, but not in size; and when his mother took in the sight of the small brown boy, his name came spontaneously to her. , she whispered to the baby, then grinned and looked at the Storyteller out of the side of her eye.

Euphemia had trialed only three times, though such efforts had resulted in four children. The last two had come together; twins, just as she and Aurelia had been. However, instead of a mirror image of each other, the two babes were stark opposites in sex and coloring. , she named the darker boy. The mother spent a moment to fondly regard the little pale girl, before bestowing her with the name .

She then pointed to the second born, a girl of brilliant fiery tones. It felt incredible to think that a child with so much vivid color came from her own body, which held a purely greyscale genetic code. What of her? she asked, suddenly dumbfounded, and glanced up to Adonis to help. At this point, Euphemia had named everyone in her small family, including Adonis himself. But this girl – she was his to name.

Thank you, the woman choked out, suddenly taken by a wave of tearfulness.

I love them. I love you, she cried into his shoulder.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

If Euphemia had not become something else entirely, she might have been too conscious of the situation. Might have known Ric haunted that very palace, or that she had made quite a spectacular scene as Adonis shepherded her to Dawnbreak’s assigned quarters, gripping terrifyingly at the trunks of trees and threatening vocally that she was going to whelp right there, in the midst of the crowd. Isolation eventually found them, and it took Euphemia almost no time to lean against Adonis as the noises traveled through her, reverberating down through her body, and out of her.

If there was only one thing she remembered Mother telling her, it was about the tissues of the body – and how the tissues of the mouth and throat were the same as those that made the birth canal, signifying that they were two ends of the same tract. As such, one reflected the other, in both ailments and virtues: tightness in the jaw could display as anal retentiveness, just as one with a subdued voice might be similarly unsure what corporeal pleasure felt like.

Mom was weird.

Pleasure had no part of this, though there were several moments the Euphemia thought back to the act that had brought herself to this moment, panting and pushing on a stranger’s floor – and she cursed it! What a sucker for weddings she was, though she could not say she regretted being swept up in the romance of Dalmatia nuptials. It was not fathomable to regret binding herself to Adonis, and bringing his children into the world.

She cursed it anyway! As Olive would have bade her, she loosened the muscles of her throat and made all manner of strange, beastly noises. She allowed the loudest of her warrior’s calling to shake the halls and join those who sought glory on the other side. One by one, the new family grew.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Euphemia knew she could not hold the world at bay for much longer. In this moment it was just her and Adonis and the children they now shared; but so soon there would be aunts and cousins, galore!

She wondered if the Eastern Dragons would take an interest in the new babes born under their roof – likely no, as they seemed quite busy themselves, but it matters naught. Those who cared the most were here, her sisters and her brother and her nieces and nephews, and they were certain to gawk and awe along with her. The hungry pink mouths of the cubs began to open and search for food, and Euphemia began to place them at her belly.

Let them in, the new mother breathlessly bade the father, feeling blessed that her family could be so near, when home could not be within reach. Instead of exhaustion, she beamed with unending pride. Let them see!

She wondered how long was appropriate before she could ask that food be brought to her from the feasting. She could wait a moment longer to show them all her babies, certainly, but the woman was famished and could only think about the pheasant that had lined the banquet tables the night before.

Chinook

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:05:35 -0400

Asxinu is no longer just this—
Girl is beginning to occupy the growing body of a woman.
Experiences have convinced her that wolf-kin and the muradoii have much in common. Both have leaders, populations, are hunters, and live together year-round. Both have language.
Why does Tata keep them in isolation?
Her prize from the day before is upended. There is no guess as to where she will toss it— right out into the vanishing sea, across the churn of wild waters. Shaahk is pleased. Girl turns for the black-sand beach.
It is time to confront .

mr sandman, man me a sand

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 17:24:16 -0400

backdated to follow this

Morning had found the pair in a tangle of limbs and fur, reeking of sex despite Silver's cursory efforts to clean them. For a brief moment, the silver had lied there and fought to remember who's arms he was in and why, before the night's activities flooded his mind and he had nuzzled into the curve of Finnegan's throat. Waking him with a smattering of kisses and lazy, half-asleep fondling seemed like a good way to get the morning started, before the silver wrestled the pair of sore bodies into the lake's revitalizing chill.

Fur groomed, herbs gathered, and the changeling trotted at the physician's heels with a pixie-like pep in his step. The trip was pleasant enough, and Silvercreek kept any conversation light and meandering, surface-level, throughout the tunnel. The magic of the transport unnerved him, however convenient it was, and he didn't know what or who was listening from the vine-woven walls. He was relieved, then, when they finally emerged from the tunnels and into the light of day once again.

Gone was the grass-scented breeze and dry heat that beat down from a merciless desert sun. Gone was the ocean-like waves of grassland speckled with horses and songbirds. Replaced by swaths of trees, a forest floor littered with leaves, a cooler and more humid temperature. He's been in this area before. However, Finnegan continues onward. Out of the woods while the sun crosses the sky, through a series of hills bursting with wildflowers, and finally - the dirt begins to turn to sand, salt on the breeze combing through Silver's fur, and a tropical humidity wetting his nose. Seagulls wail and circle overhead, and in the distance, against the setting sun, a great wooden ship's silhouette looms.

They've made it. Now the real journey begins. Silvercreek sidesteps, noses at a sprig of rosemary tucked into the physician's thick ruff, his tail sweeping behind him in wide, self-assured arcs. This is it, right? I can't believe you came down to my patch of desert when this beachside oasis was here the whole time.

[WP] oh-lei, oh-lai, oh, lord

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 17:16:46 -0400

takes place evening of the 13th

Nemennoe had finally made it to Tianlong earlier that day, something about a wedding but all she cared about was celebration and food that she didn’t have to catch herself, thank the gods. When she first got here she couldn’t believe there were so many here to celebrate. She didn’t really understand it, but no way was she skipping out on a good party.

She slid easily in between bodies and made her way towards the food, her mouth watering at the sight. And she ate until full, a content smile sliding easily across her face. That is when she started really looking at the different wolves there. A lot of them were chatting excitedly, or laughing. It seemed like a lot of them knew each other before coming here. She wondered if there were more sisters here, like the one she saw on the beach. It would be nice to have sisters to dance under the moon with again, and gossip.

She wondered how much gossip could come from an event like this and let out a small giggle to herself. As she scanned the room she noticed the berries. She thought she had seen a few who were light on their feet. This was a party, she should indulge herself, she thought as she glided over to them and started savoring them one by one. Not as good as mead, but it would do. And slowly she felt as though she were levitating in bliss. Everyone was just talking but why weren’t they dancing?

She would have to fix that. Was there music? In her mind there was, and it was a sweet melody. She chose a spot that was less crowded and danced, she spun and turned gracefully to a rhythm all her own. Were they staring?

Let them.

She smiled wide and unapologetically. This was possibly the most fun she’s had yet since being here.

strong and self-made, well-paid, so groomed, persuasive

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 16:23:23 -0400

backdated for end of July, for

The heat is sweltering for a man adorned in such a thick coat. Sagramore is too lazy to pluck at his pelt and thin the hairs to make the summer haze even a moment more bearable. The giant grumbles in pleasure as a cloud passes between the blinding sun and him.

At least his shoulder aches less and less. It no longer weeps, and with the touch of the healer, he has avoided infection entirely. It’ll scar into something wicked, like the ones that frame the left of his face from cheekbone to jaw. Similar to the ones that litter his legs.

Birds twitter above him while the river bubbles below as he sunbathes upon his rock. No one else has come to harass him, not even the ghosts.

He is alone for a day, he thinks.

{WP} Care for a gift?

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 16:14:50 -0400

After much discussion had occurred over whether or not he and Vidalia would attend a foreign wedding, and once it had been ultimately decided that they would, Raelan had ensured that they had at least brought some form of gift to these foreign lands. It had felt right in the moment, and it had been something he had seen others do as well.

Raelan was not one for crafty gifts. He was not…creative in that way. He was practical. And what kind of gift could the Eastrenhold wolves give an emperor of foreign nationality? Well, bison fur, of course. There had been a band of lingering bison to the southeast of their castle grounds, and over the many weeks, Raelan had spent preparing furs to soften the cooler stone of their home.

It had been good timing, too, that Raelan had at least one to spare for this foreign king and his bride.

And so, when it had finally come time for the guests to make their appearance to the king—er, Emperor—Raelan carried the leather hide, softened on one side by the coarseness of the bison’s hair and the warmth of the humid sun, and placed it neatly at the steps from which he regarded the Emperor.

The Lord Commander dipped his chin in formal greeting. Good tidings, Emperor. He began, I am Ser Raelan Whitewood, Lord Commander of Eastrenhold.

He lifted his pale gaze toward him. It is an honor to stand beneath your sky on this fortunate day. He added.

It was rather unfortunate he did not speak the man’s natal tongue, but alas, Raelan made do.

The Knight presented the bison skin, tanned fur warmed beneath the glistening sun. A gift for your Imperial Majesty—and for your bride—a token from our land to yours.

He took a polite step back before continuing, May your marriage be blessed with happiness, prosperity, and peace.

{WP} Oopsie Daisy

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 15:25:43 -0400

The wedding was grander than he ever could have imagined. Fit for a King, he had thought absentmindedly as his gaze had skirted across the assortment of faces who attended. It truly did not seem to matter that he and Vidalia had not exactly been cordially invited, for the number of wolves who were present was far more than any one man and his council could account for. It presumably felt as though the entirety of the realm had come to celebrate this foreign emperor and his…fourth wife?

Raelan had heard the rumblings from many hushed and whispered voices as they spoke about this emperor’s harem of wives, claiming that he had even more than he could rightfully count! Raelan did not quite know what to parse as fact or fiction, but he had heard the number as low as 4 and as high as 10!

Either way, he presumed this Shenlei of the Tianlong Dynasty to be happy. As any man would.

The knight manuevered through the crowd, offering his own voice when introductions were necessary but finding his silent observation far more telling than anything he could learn from mumbling lips. He surveyed the masses with the keen eye of a soldier sizing up an enemy. Just in the very small case something were to go amiss—there were just too many wolves for one to feel…comfortable.

However, it was within his weaving and bobbing through the crowd, watching and noting, that he had unintentionally run into a body—his shoulder sideswiping another as Raelan danced atop his paws.

That never happened.

He shook his head, blinking as he turned to glance at the wolf he had accidentally collided with. My apologies, he offered the man. I was not looking where I was going. Are you alright?

[wp] spider lily

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 14:52:09 -0400

DAY 3 | evening, after the games

Three days of picturesque perfection. Not a hair out of place. Not a stray twitch of her mouth to betray the thoughts stirred behind gold-coin eyes. Not a word that did not paint Tianlong in the glory deserved, no matter the perpetual upheaval and complexities of the true nature of the court.

Three days, she has sat through wedding ceremonies, feasts, listened to foreign dignitaries laud her people's prosperity for their own gain, watched children run amok between the legs of a throng of strangers, without a crack in the porcelain of her demeanor.

The third day, after hours watching wrestling and warrior competitions that she wishes she found more entertaining, Lian partakes in drink. Sneaks away while the excitement of the physicality of the competitions wears off into raucous comradery. As the light of the sun dims and drink and good food and better conversation flows freely, the energy of the gathering grows less and less fit for the princess to remain in. She plucks a small skin of sharp-smelling berries from a table that isn't being watched and slips into the forest. Even adorned as she is, Lian's soft-footed steps and unassuming grace make it a simple task for her to disappear from the proceedings without a ripple.

Drunkenness doesn't appeal to her. She is still keenly aware of the many strangers swarming the forests. But a little to take the edge off - not a problem. She will be stone-cold sober by tomorrow morning to see off the wedding guests in all her finery. The princess pays little attention to her destination, mind still on the party she can faintly hear beyond the trees, and she nearly stumbles into a figure that blends into the shadows seamlessly. She startles, steps back. The bag of berry-wine hits the earth at her feet. Oh! Forgive me, I didn't think anyone else was out here.

[WP] FOUR FOR YOU, GLEN COCO! YOU GO GLEN COCO!

Sun, 16 Aug 2026 14:38:02 -0400

Backdated to the 13th for

The afternoon sun hung high over Verdant's Grace, pouring warm golden light across the tropical mountain range. Waterfalls thundered down distant cliffs, mist drifting through the humid air while exotic birds called from the lush canopy. Everywhere Fairytale looked—or rather, thought she looked—there were colors, movement, music, and food.

And Fairytale was taking full advantage of all of it.

The feast had been going for hours. Fairytale had been going for hours. Specialty drinks? Consumed. Fermented fruit? Destroyed. Roasted meats? Gone.

Whatever strange tropical delicacies the hosts had placed within reach? Fairytale had enthusiastically decided they were all hers.

The Rose Bride was absolutely CRUNKED.

She stumbled away from one particularly generous table with a drink clutched between her paws, her midnight coat warm beneath the tropical sun and her tail wagging wildly behind her. Her cloudy blue eyes rendered the bustling celebration into little more than colorful blobs and vaguely recognizable shapes, but that hardly mattered.

She was having the time of her fucking life. This place is AWESOME. Fairytale giggled to herself before taking another drink.

Then—

Something caught the corner of her vision. A familiar blob. Fairytale froze. Her ears shot upright. She squinted. Her entire expression transformed. ...NO FUCKIN' WWWWWAAYYYYY. She immediately abandoned whatever she had been doing.

The drink nearly went flying as Fairytale bolted through the feast, weaving between wolves with absolutely no regard for personal space. She bounced off one shoulder, apologized to nobody, nearly tripped over someone's tail, recovered with a triumphant little hop, and continued charging toward the familiar silhouette.

Her tail was wagging so hard it practically looked detached from her body.

The closer she got, the more certain she became.

That was her.

Or at least Fairytale was approximately eighty percent certain.

Which, considering her vision, was basically a medical diagnosis.

She skidded to a stop nearby, her paws scrambling against the ground as she tried not to faceplant directly into whoever she'd just sprinted across the entire feast to find.

Then her ears perked.

Her cloudy eyes widened and Fairytale gasped with enough theatrical enthusiasm to turn several nearby heads.

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!

The greeting stretched on for an absurd amount of time. Fairytale's grin was enormous.

She bounced excitedly on her paws, practically vibrating with drunken enthusiasm as she stared her favorite niece. Oh my GOD, it's YOU! I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE YOU AGAIN! HI HI HI HI HI!!

Fairytale promptly stepped closer, sniffing enthusiastically in an attempt to confirm her suspicions. She was smiling. She was drunk. She was high. And she had apparently just found someone she was very happy to see.