Little mouse, little mouse, where will you scurry to?
Nanaka hummed a limerick beneath the soft tenor of lips so tightly pressed together, twining and untwining a bundle of yarn through thin fingers. She made a great many sights, but showcased no natural skill in the craft; that is to say, any shapes she suspended were not very good. Still, it brought her an almost childlike sense of entertainment. It kept her hands busy from dark inclinations, and her thoughts away from deeper shades. Her eyes - always half-lidded, nothing garnering enough attention for a full focus of their light - wandered softly over her hands as they worked. A bird. A cat. A dog.
A shark?
That cat, dressed in black, has claws coming down for you.
A distraction caught a corner of boredom - tugging both her mouth from its set and her eyes from their lull. Her hands pause, coiled in a fish-like piece, and she dangles it down her legs. Seated as she was atop a building in the district, pointedly ignoring and people watching the passersby, the color would spill from her hands until it shivered like chimes in the wind. A sight not sorely seen; one, however, that brought with it great interest. With ears like a cat, and a tail coiled from her hip, she wasn't in much a position to judge - so judge she didn't, and considered instead. What exactly was Suna that it made people like them? What exactly were they, if not animals or its people?
Run away, little mouse, to hide from the cat.
"Good creature, pardon me." She breathed as easily as a flower expelling pollen - a dandelion, even, with its wishing seeds carried; and that wish so very intoxicating in the mouths of prey. Her tail curled at its tip, all black fur and lithe, and twitch to offer its own wave. Her hand did, however, reach out enough to trail vivid string from each knuckle. "Be you friend or be you foe?" It was a game to her. It was a truth, still. "Are you quite lost?"
Sharp teeth and bright eyes are no match for a rat.
Nanaka hummed a limerick beneath the soft tenor of lips so tightly pressed together, twining and untwining a bundle of yarn through thin fingers. She made a great many sights, but showcased no natural skill in the craft; that is to say, any shapes she suspended were not very good. Still, it brought her an almost childlike sense of entertainment. It kept her hands busy from dark inclinations, and her thoughts away from deeper shades. Her eyes - always half-lidded, nothing garnering enough attention for a full focus of their light - wandered softly over her hands as they worked. A bird. A cat. A dog.
A shark?
That cat, dressed in black, has claws coming down for you.
A distraction caught a corner of boredom - tugging both her mouth from its set and her eyes from their lull. Her hands pause, coiled in a fish-like piece, and she dangles it down her legs. Seated as she was atop a building in the district, pointedly ignoring and people watching the passersby, the color would spill from her hands until it shivered like chimes in the wind. A sight not sorely seen; one, however, that brought with it great interest. With ears like a cat, and a tail coiled from her hip, she wasn't in much a position to judge - so judge she didn't, and considered instead. What exactly was Suna that it made people like them? What exactly were they, if not animals or its people?
Run away, little mouse, to hide from the cat.
"Good creature, pardon me." She breathed as easily as a flower expelling pollen - a dandelion, even, with its wishing seeds carried; and that wish so very intoxicating in the mouths of prey. Her tail curled at its tip, all black fur and lithe, and twitch to offer its own wave. Her hand did, however, reach out enough to trail vivid string from each knuckle. "Be you friend or be you foe?" It was a game to her. It was a truth, still. "Are you quite lost?"
Sharp teeth and bright eyes are no match for a rat.