PKBlackTornado

You can find Melanie getting lost in the Cerulean Forest, where she blends in best with the foliage. She uses her excellent camouflage to hunt her most dangerous of prey... wild mushrooms! Even getting the spores of the wrong one stuck in your fur can make you sick for weeks, as she can tell you, so it's a very hazardous job. However, even the poisonous ones can sometimes be useful for magic spells and potions, and not many Kiamaras are so excited to look for them- so she has a bit of a pawhold in the market already. When she's not mushroom-hunting, you can find her in Manabane hawking her raw goods to anyone who will buy them. Dried or fresh, she will sell you the fungus you require at a rock bottom price. It's a modest living, profits considered, and she's always been curious about doing something more. But as long as the money keeps flowing, she's happy with her job. It helps her feel both useful, somewhat mystical, and in touch with nature all at once!

Poetry was... strange to Patches. His dreams were often painted with the kinds of colors he wished he could express in words. Sometimes even in his waking life, he'd think of something strangely artistic to say. It wasn't all the time by any means, but it happened often enough that he knew the look people gave him when he said something surprisingly intelligent-sounding quite well. So it was with great difficulty that he stared at the blank sheet below him, lovely scrapbooking paper purchased just for this, and scratched his head. Something too artistic would be a bit much, wouldn't it? It would seem like he was trying too hard, and it would give off the wrong vibe. Arle was a simple Kiamara, weren't they? They didn't ask for much, so maybe a simple poem would be best. Counting on their pads, Patches measured out the reliable Five-Seven-Five. Like morning sunrise, and all four seasons in turn, I rely on you. ...Ah, it still sounded a little romantic to be something you'd give your

it is in fitful drips of sleep that he feels aware of who he is, feels present in his body once more. a calm day. a lazy day, even. he leans back in his chair and gazes out the window at the gorgeous blooms of summer. bees and butterflies dance like an aurora in the heat-haze. the youngest prince is bereft of responsibilities in the worst of times, and in the best of times, is content to be complacent in the lap of luxury. the king is still young and in good health, and his older siblings are too busy vying among themselves for father's affection to win over his inheritance to bother their little brother. he has never wanted for much. has never wanted for anything, really. it is another beautiful day to be home. so much better to be inside when you're lost inside your own mind. for a moment he considers if it's worth getting up to get out the oil paints or a drawing pad to put this moment into concrete form. art is a useless, romantic skill, his siblings tell him. but it's what he

Odessa's first idea of how to sate Gus was simply tossing down a couple dollars for a pack of Oreos at the convenience store. She had gotten so far as returning with a crinkly plastic bag of them only to see how... how utterly disappointed the little robot looked at this measly offering. Yeah, okay, these weren't exactly the same as the handmade cookies the robot was used to providing, but give her a break! She couldn't just whip up a batch of those fancy things on a lark, she was making minimum wage here. ...She groaned, setting down the processed junk food and putting her front paws on her hips. "Okay, where did you last see them?" This question, at least, made Gus perk up quite a bit more than the Oreos. Guess she was in for a long day... The two ended up retracing their steps to the stall once more, looking over what was had in the storage room. Besides the two small piles, there were several massive jars in which cookies were stored, ones that seemed almost large enough to fit a