Post by Lidochka on Apr 30, 2007 17:03:20 GMT
"Nyet, Desya..."
The voice was mumbled from under a downy comforter and instantly followed by a tiny cry from the small furry ball that was trying to worm its way beneath it but finding no entrance into the fortress of bed linens, thus getting increasingly frustrated that it was left on the outside. After a minute of more mewing and pawing a hand snuck out and scooped up the fluff ball, pulling him into the cocoon of sheets and pillows.
Lidochka Mikhaylov drew her black kitten into her chest where he continued to mew at her and snuggled under her chin. She smiled, safe in the expression since she was well hidden from the rest of the pack, and Desya couldn't exactly tell anyone he had seen the Russian smile.
"You're hungry..." she observed sleepily.
The second night of the moon, the worst by far, had exhausted her. At only thirty-four she was a long way from controlling the wolf inside her and she knew that, it just added to the depression she felt seeping into her every limb; she had upwards of a hundred years ahead of her where every month she would lose control. Lidochka liked to have control. But she'd asked for this, so she equally knew she had no right to complain about it. She had asked him to turn her and he had agreed, he never refused her and she'd used that to get what she wanted because she couldn't bear to be without him. That plan had backfired horribly.
With a heavy, miserable sigh she shoved the duvet back. Neither she nor her tiny companion had eaten yet that morning. Once she had gotten out of the basement holding cells she had returned instantly to her room, not even stopping to grab a glass of juice; she'd downed a pint or so of water once she had arrived at her room and then simply flopped into bed and burrowed down into the covers. Now Desya was awake and hungry and she was too.
Without any more procrastination she got up and out of the bed and went to shower, taking a few items of clothing with her and leaving Desya tumbling around in the crumpled up duvet. She emerged soon enough, clean and dressed and her hair returned to its puffy, distinctive curls thanks to the hair dryer.
One hands smoothed out her skirt and the other rescued the tiny kitten from the rolling peaks of the bedspread. She straightened it out and then, cradling Desya in the crook of her arm exited her room with the kitchen as her ultimate destination.
Continued in Hallways; with Desya.
The voice was mumbled from under a downy comforter and instantly followed by a tiny cry from the small furry ball that was trying to worm its way beneath it but finding no entrance into the fortress of bed linens, thus getting increasingly frustrated that it was left on the outside. After a minute of more mewing and pawing a hand snuck out and scooped up the fluff ball, pulling him into the cocoon of sheets and pillows.
Lidochka Mikhaylov drew her black kitten into her chest where he continued to mew at her and snuggled under her chin. She smiled, safe in the expression since she was well hidden from the rest of the pack, and Desya couldn't exactly tell anyone he had seen the Russian smile.
"You're hungry..." she observed sleepily.
The second night of the moon, the worst by far, had exhausted her. At only thirty-four she was a long way from controlling the wolf inside her and she knew that, it just added to the depression she felt seeping into her every limb; she had upwards of a hundred years ahead of her where every month she would lose control. Lidochka liked to have control. But she'd asked for this, so she equally knew she had no right to complain about it. She had asked him to turn her and he had agreed, he never refused her and she'd used that to get what she wanted because she couldn't bear to be without him. That plan had backfired horribly.
With a heavy, miserable sigh she shoved the duvet back. Neither she nor her tiny companion had eaten yet that morning. Once she had gotten out of the basement holding cells she had returned instantly to her room, not even stopping to grab a glass of juice; she'd downed a pint or so of water once she had arrived at her room and then simply flopped into bed and burrowed down into the covers. Now Desya was awake and hungry and she was too.
Without any more procrastination she got up and out of the bed and went to shower, taking a few items of clothing with her and leaving Desya tumbling around in the crumpled up duvet. She emerged soon enough, clean and dressed and her hair returned to its puffy, distinctive curls thanks to the hair dryer.
One hands smoothed out her skirt and the other rescued the tiny kitten from the rolling peaks of the bedspread. She straightened it out and then, cradling Desya in the crook of her arm exited her room with the kitchen as her ultimate destination.
Continued in Hallways; with Desya.