04-29-2018, 03:10 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]To be honest, Jo hasn't had many horrific moments in life where she could blame poor decision-making skills. To be more honest, she actually hasn't had that many horrific moments at all. The lowest points involved the deaths of the animals she cared for, but she had learned rather quickly that that was simply the way of things. Old animals could no longer support themselves, or the feral dogs caught them because they needed to eat too. Life was a constant circle of what needed to be done, at least until humans were introduced to the equation. She had found nothing else in her admittedly small world that could act the way humans do  for enjoyment, revenge, or morality. The tiger has no concept of right and wrong, and as such could not be good or evil. But humans do, and she's struggling with the idea that there are some out there whose morals aren't right. The Group of Captors, they'd been called. Kidnapping innocent people, taking them. Now there are these raiders chasing Lincoln, and even if she's not going to see them face to face, she has to wonder. What about the blackout made people do this? It's not something she really wants to know.
These are the kinds of thoughts she leaves in the snow as she walks. The wind bites and she'd much prefer some company, but lately it feels as if she's been... Stuck. Not in Flintlock, not with the people here. Just within her own mind. The young woman chews at the inside of her lip with a thoughtful expression, and any attempts to pay more attention to her own footsteps than the thoughts in her head quickly failed. It's lonely out here when she doesn't even have a dog with her, and Jo doesn't know where she's going. But she goes, and before long she realizes that the farther she walks, the less cold she feels. And the less comfortable she feels with the height. Her fingers are still numb and her cheeks are a rosy red, and there's not as much snow on the ground. Eventually she begins to pay a little more attention to her surroundings, and this  this was similar to the area that she and Ellie had passed through on their way to Flintlock the first time. At the realization, Jo immediately stops walking.
Frozen in place, with her hair falling in wisps around her face, it takes a second for Flintlock's director to really realize what she was seeing. She clumsily brushes loose strands from her face with mittened fingers, heart jumping a little at the sight in front of her. "Hey," she breathes, and then a little louder  "Hey?" There's no movement, and she's not sure if she expected it or not. She pushes herself into a jog for the last few steps and falls to her knees, tugging off her mittens to skim her fingers over what skin she can reach. It looks as if he'd hit his head on something, which wasn't surprising if he was knocked out. It just meant that he had to wake up soon, so she gently reaches out to shake him as she shifts him away from the stupid rock. "Can you hear me?"
/ your muse is too good grea
These are the kinds of thoughts she leaves in the snow as she walks. The wind bites and she'd much prefer some company, but lately it feels as if she's been... Stuck. Not in Flintlock, not with the people here. Just within her own mind. The young woman chews at the inside of her lip with a thoughtful expression, and any attempts to pay more attention to her own footsteps than the thoughts in her head quickly failed. It's lonely out here when she doesn't even have a dog with her, and Jo doesn't know where she's going. But she goes, and before long she realizes that the farther she walks, the less cold she feels. And the less comfortable she feels with the height. Her fingers are still numb and her cheeks are a rosy red, and there's not as much snow on the ground. Eventually she begins to pay a little more attention to her surroundings, and this  this was similar to the area that she and Ellie had passed through on their way to Flintlock the first time. At the realization, Jo immediately stops walking.
Frozen in place, with her hair falling in wisps around her face, it takes a second for Flintlock's director to really realize what she was seeing. She clumsily brushes loose strands from her face with mittened fingers, heart jumping a little at the sight in front of her. "Hey," she breathes, and then a little louder  "Hey?" There's no movement, and she's not sure if she expected it or not. She pushes herself into a jog for the last few steps and falls to her knees, tugging off her mittens to skim her fingers over what skin she can reach. It looks as if he'd hit his head on something, which wasn't surprising if he was knocked out. It just meant that he had to wake up soon, so she gently reaches out to shake him as she shifts him away from the stupid rock. "Can you hear me?"
/ your muse is too good grea
[align=center][div style="font-size:16pt;line-height:.9;color:#000;font-family:georgia;padding:4px"]CAN WE SPEAK IN FLOWERS?
[sub]IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO UNDERSTAND[/sub]
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[sub]IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO UNDERSTAND[/sub]
[sup]━━━━━━━ [ ❈ ] ━━━━━━━[/sup]