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Ok, I lied; I had time today to put up the directory again. Lineup by @feraljayce!
Welcome, readers old and new! This is a dark fantasy universe in which the princesses are trying to survive the perils of humanity at only a few inches' height. Despite being a crossover with The Borrowers, all you need to know is that the Princesses are tiny little guys! Think of it as “Reverse Tower;” no prior knowledge needed.
Fic TWs: Cannon-Typical Violence, Black Markets, Dehumanization, Animal Death, Genocidal Themes, Detailed PTSD, Mithridatism (Self-Poisoning), Prisoner-of-War Imagery, Manic Episodes, Minor Character Death, Suicidal Ideation, Predator/Prey Imagery, Cannibalistic Elements, Allegorical Intersexism, Body Dysphoria, Gender & Sex Dysphoria, Humanoid Trafficking, Internalized Ableism.
I saw you had interest in the Demo Voices and hiiii. Mr. Obsession Man you have my stupid little heart. I hope it’s ok if I did my own design for him; this is technically his Pre-Fused Wild form but I will be def doing some of that later. Tried some things with text & textures and I think it turned out p ok.
Obsessed to me is like. This roaming, stumbling bear of a man. Actively chasing after the princesses diligently, seeming to miss his mark even though he’s a beast unto himself. Because of course, he was Beast’s foil. And with his basis on something akin to Captain Ahab and serving as essentially Beta Hunted/Stubborn, his persistence and instinct to survive by perpetuating the cycle of violence is unrivaled.
I am a little late bc I wanted to do some sketches of designs but hiii expect those later hopefully bc I have. Many thoughts on this stupid lil man. And I am happy to hear others.
(Tysm for @secretsanta-secretslayer for hosting this event!)
I genuinely might steal one of the demo voices from STP so I can make someone a tulip snake. Probably Obsessed but idk yet, I just love Tulip Snakes so much
An Illustrated Work Featuring art from @feraljayce , @letoilepourpre, @territorial-utopia, @justanumber , @fenneggs-n-toast & others!
This is a dark fantasy universe in which the princesses are trying to survive the perils of humanity at only a few inches' height. When outrunning the Echo leaves them forced to find shelter, they may have to adapt to a benefactor’s cabin to wait out the storm. Yet with curious phantoms and towering ravens, this may be easier said than done… And oh, did I mention that this tale is rather gay?
Despite being a crossover with The Borrowers, all you need to know is that the Princesses are tiny little guys! No prior knowledge needed (though I welcome any questions!)
Tws for those who need em under the cut!
Fic TWs: STP-Typical Violence, Black Markets, Dehumanization, Animal Death, Genocidal Themes, Detailed PTSD, Mithridatism (Non-Lethal Self-Poisoning), Prisoner-of-War Imagery, Manic Episodes, Implied/Referenced Humanoid Trafficking, Minor Character Death, Implied Parental Death, Suicidal Ideation, Predator/Prey Imagery, Cannibalistic Elements, Body Dysphoria, [Overcome] Intersexism, Survivor’s Guilt, Internalized Ableism. All are well-researched & handled respectfully.
I would have this posted up on the blog but it’s multi-chartered and I don’t wanna miss any of these tws on posting :c But if people need the doc to read, do let me know and I can slide it! Forget what I said earlier lmao it's up
The Princess was alive . The Wild was rising yet again. Just thinking about the audacity of the young Wild’s murder had the Echo’s feathers bristling; without a proper kill, he’d never heal the scar that marred his chest. The diligent bird was looking worse for wear by the day, and the wounds he’d sustained from that particular Fae certainly weren’t doing him any favors. If he didn’t slay them and reaccumulate those powers…
Taking a final glance, the Raven lifted his wings and traveled on towards the deeper woods. He’d find The Obsessed by a nearby stream, watching for the trout that lingered in its murky depths. Blank eyes stared forward towards his catch, not even bothering to turn and face him. “Echo,” the bear rumbled. “I sense you’re back empty-taloned.”
“That would be correct.” The Raven secured himself a few paces away from the stream. “You were right about the Wild’s location; problem is, I’m a bit too light to breach the cabin’s barrier. It seems the Angel’s wife is obnoxiously determined to keep me at bay.” The Raven, too, looked towards the waters below; he could treat this rendezvous as a bit of hunting practice.
The Obsessed laughed. “Got you too, huh? I didn’t take you as a quitter.” Blank eyes shifted, glancing at him challengingly.
“Oh, I didn’t say I was done.” The Raven lashed a talon into the waters below. His prey slid from the grasp of his injured foot, growling at the blunder. “I’m just rusty, that’s all. I expect the Wild plans to wait out Her ascension in that place, but She can’t do much without a vessel.”
“The tenants don’t want to merge with Her,” Obsessed mused, slapping a wandering trout. The stun gave him a moment to catch it in his teeth, biting down on his prey. “The weasel kept blabbing about it the whole time—“
“Ah.” This time, the fish caught in the Echo’s grasp. With a swift motion of his beak, he threw it towards the other side of the bank to his ally. “So She’s left without someone to help, is She?”
The bear grinned. “Not exactly.” The trace of his tail flicked towards the deeper woods. “Partner’s around here, trying to get back. I’ve seen her. Hurt her. I just haven’t been able to catch her.” The bear pointed a claw to a few small, deep scratches on his flank. “Feisty one. In for the kill. But maybe, if you want me to keep her distracted…”
The Echo blinked. “It seems we’re already on the same page. What are you proposing?”
“You want me to take on that demon and lure Her out?”
The Raven pondered it a moment. “… Yes. That would be helpful.” The bird paused to lift a talon. “But assuming they did reunite, you’d risk their fusion—“
“Not if She’s smart.” The bear reared, pointing a claw to his ruined chest. “Any Wild can reach open tunnels to the Network. If She tries it, She’ll leave Herself exposed to me.”
There was a stifled pleading from somewhere within the rib-entangled roots. The Strangled Wild was still conscious enough to protest, but lacked the power to fight back.
The Raven dipped his head, pondering it a moment. “I see… Using your own connection to get to Her roots.” The Raven murmured in approval. “And then destroy Her from the source?”
The bear nodded. “And if She won’t open up, I’ll drown Her.” A paw slammed down on the lake. “Make it so She can’t take a Vessel before Her death.”
And once that’s done, I’ll deal with you, The Echo mused. Allied or not, you still have a part of Her I can’t let survive — but I'm sure you’ll understand, when that time comes. The Raven smirked. “Then it’s settled. Keep Her pesky partner at bay, and with luck we can lay a blood trail.” He cocked his head. “Doesn’t that one like the bloodier fights, anyways?”
The bear grinned, baring bloody teeth. “Oh, Echo, you don’t even know the half of it.”
——
Back at the safety of the cabin, Thorn’s own journey led her to the living room. The fireplace had been recently lit, and judging by the small incisions in the wood she knew the culprit. Yet instead of lapping up the heat, she found the Chimera resting in the shade. Beast’s back was turned, tail flicking; agitated compared to Den, who flopped over in the sunlight as anyone would expect from a massive cat. Beast’s behavior had been withdrawn since the hunt, as if she could tell something Thorn could not.
“Beast?”
A single-note question. The chimera’s ears twitched. “Heiress.” A two-note reply. A brief turn of her head, watching expectantly for her to continue. Right.
“I wanted to check on you,” Thorn admitted. Even if drawing close to her old mentor brought forth its own waves of anxiety, she’d brave it well enough to get to the bottom of this.
Beast flashed a half-hearted grin; all teeth. “You needn’t do that, Heiress.” Okay, so clearly ‘kit’ wasn’t her preferred title anymore. Preything, Kit, now Heiress — but never ‘Thorn.’ This chimera was ever-formal, almost to a point she was distant.
“What are you talking about? Of course I do.” Another pawstep forward. Thorn wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, and she’d just have to deal with that. “You’re a part of this pack, too. And packmates take care of each other.” A hesitant step. “At least, that’s what you taught me.”
Beast snorted. “What I taught you about how to live among chimera is no longer relevant,” she sneered. “You’re about to be much more than us, and you’ll have to learn a new way to survive.” Beast rose to her feet, shifting away. A smooth, firm vine lanced her legs in their organic snare; a softer gaze down, impressed by the warm sting of blood along her limbs. “I see. So something I taught you did stick, after all.”
“All of it did.” Thorn’s posture straightened. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”
“No. You wouldn’t.” Beast snipped the vine with a claw, sitting to lick away the crimson droplets. “I’ll be fine. You needn’t worry about how I am when your ascension is imminent.”
Thorn paused for a moment. Why was her mentor being so cagey? … Oh. The Borrower watched the chimera smooth over the pad of one paw; that must’ve been where her mother had marked her. “You’re thinking about Her, aren’t you?”
Beast bristled. The lash of her tail was audible as it flicked against the hardwood floor — hard . “I did what she asked. I kept you alive. I kept you breathing. And no matter how hard you fought back against it—“
“— The cruelty helped,” Thorn finished morosely, letting her mentor breathe. “It was better getting a slap in the face from someone I knew than an outright enemy.”
Beast’s pupils dilated. “So you finally understand it.”
Thorn nodded. “I always have. It was just much harder to accept back then.”
Reluctantly, Beast shifted closer. “I didn’t choose for it to end like this,” Beast reminded. “If I’d had it my way, you would’ve stayed with Her. I was only supposed to help Her with the kits, not take over.”
“I know.” Thorn brisked over, clambering up the nearby leg of the couch. Careening down, she was able to graze the chimera’s forehead with her own. There was a blink of surprise as Beast reciprocated, before lifting her charge with an absent paw.
“Skip the formalities, Kit.” Ah, the moment was over. As Beast deposited the Heiress on the ground, Thorn shot her a look of thanks. “Go dig your roots in before we run out of time.”
Thorn gave a dip of her head. And thus, the unceremony began.
Beast watched absently as Thorn began her work. Pawing into the carpet seemed like the easiest place to put her hold on this transcendental world, feeling the fibers split beneath her claws.
There were always three different terrains that got one to the Wild; the soft, the harsh, and the nothing in between. The former at least made the journey easier as the pull of claws and teeth began to create the void within, concealing the scrap of loosely-scrabbling appendages. Unlike the last time, Thorn was able to hone in more on the sensation; the shift and move of fabric beneath scarred fingertips, soothing the pain into a trance of nothingness. Every burrowing creature knew that getting in to the earth was about forward motion. So gradually Thorn hunkered down as she made her second journey inward, feeling the sting of neurons that did not belong to her. Wired, wily, and ever so careful all the same…
Until it melded into a hazy blur of nothingness, only interrupted by that sacred mantra.
Borrowed and Stolen. Wild and Domestic. Survival and Lavish Indulgence. Pain and Ecstasy. These were the bonds which governed the two worlds of large and small, and at the heart of it all was a thread tied together by—
You.
The voice arose again in its hymnal chorus. Somewhere in the sea of thought was her mother’s voice as Thorn’s limber body once again leapt, twisted, and clambered down the synaptics. And as she attempted to reach that central tree —
Heiress.
Thorn retracted her hand; that voice wasn’t her mother’s. The soft lilt and frightened tone was one she’d scarcely heard before, yet it felt… Lost. Familiar.
Come here.
Again, the Wild murmured pleadingly. Something dreary was on the horizon; a tug and thrust of nerves that had never gotten to burrow into this place. It took a moment to recognize the source of the dialogue, but somehow intrinsically Thorn understood: The Devoured was trying to warn her of something.
“What do you want from me?”
——
Evening light now filtered into the cabin bedroom through the slats. Hovering just a pace away from her husband, Spectre glanced over Quiet pleadingly. Silently testing for some kind of stumble backwards, some form of revulsion now that he knew she was less than perfect. Yet the unease in the corvid’s eyes was not one of hate; just of pity, demeaning as that may be. To know all she’d endured just to die alone in the freezing cold… It made Quiet feel even more sick as he pawed forward.
“I’m… Sorry,” Quiet huffed, plumicorns drooping. “I wish I’d—“ Quiet cut himself off; now wasn’t the time for guilt. They could deal with that gradually, and start with the here and now.
“You’re… Wilds , Come here,” Quiet trilled softly, wagging a regrowing talon. “It’s alright.”
Spectre met his motion, not his eyes. The flit forward was just as tentative as when they’d first met; longing, aching, and scared. A hand pawed his tentatively. His hand grasped firmer. Deep fingers embraced her in full all too easily, and she desperately dove into the embrace. Corporeality felt all too easy as Quiet held her tight, hands wrapping around her as they drove the tiny Borrower towards his heart. That soft, aching beat enveloped her nerves like a mantra — and finally, the little phantom broke into her own howling cries.
Three years of waiting. Three years of keeping it all in. To think it could’ve been over so much sooner… But the second best time was now, and it felt right despite the ache in her tiny, incorporeal body.
Talons pierced through phantom limbs; transparent fingers pulled along the grasp of epidermal shelter. Tears dripped down Quiet’s chin and through his wife’s tiny silhouette, interrupting her form momentarily. Both of them sat there shaking, panting, letting the nerves wrack through them; it felt wonderful, relieving, horrible all the same. But as the moments wore on, it began to blend together in a sort of relieved numbness.
This was no longer her burden alone. That meant something. Everything.
Eventually, the spasms died down in place of comfort. Quiet waited patiently until the storm had passed, petting Spectre gently all the while. Yet a nail raised to caress her chin was thrust downwards by frantic, tiny hands, giving a violent shake of her head through mumbled words:
“No no; you can’t see me like this—!!!“
“Take your time.” Quiet retracted, heaving a sigh. The fingers abated, and it seemed that she was contemplating the request. He waited a few more moments before opening his beak yet again.
“Hey. I love you,” he crooned gently, “no matter what. I married you, not just you at your best. Even when you’re tear-streaked, red-eyed and ragged as I’ve ever seen —“
That finally got a giggle from the ghost as she raised her head. The once-milky gaze of her sclera was blood-red and dripping, strands of hair unevenly whisked between strewn and incidentally preened-out feathers. Still shaky in her grip, there was an almost pleading look in now-dilated eyes; the temptation was still to hide herself away, but Spectre knew better. Soul laid bare before him, she’d never been more beautiful.
“My dear, my Spectre, my haunting little dove —“ His feathers were ruffling in that lovesick, goofy manner they did when he was nervous. “You’ve been through quite a lot, haven’t you?” The talons brushed against the wispy strands of her hair, tending to loose ends with the rare grace of a trained lover. “I can imagine that it was a lot to get out into the open.”
Spectre nodded. “More so than you’ll ever know. You’re not even supposed to know I exist, let alone the fact that —“
Quiet nodded. “I’m just surprised that your own people would do things like that.”
Spectre raised a brow. “Even after all we’ve been through? I’d think you would be more used to it.”
Quiet bristled. “Do you ever get ‘used to’ something like that?”
Spectre shook her head. “Not if you still have your humanity, no.” There was a sigh this time as she leaned against Quiet’s thumb. “I’m just… There’s still more I could’ve done—“
“— You are doing it. Right here, right now.” A careful nudge against the curvature of her spine. “We started this together for a reason, and now I understand why. Even if I can’t imagine —“
“— Except that you can. And you do.” The words were soft, but insistent. “It never came down to what we are in the end, large or small; we’re both victims of the same enemy,” Spectre reasoned, shifting a hand. “And that’s what brought us together, is it not?”
No words escaped Quiet’s mouth at first; just a mournful, solemn bow. “Desperate times and desperate measures, as they say.”
“There are good things that come from the bad, but even then it doesn’t diminish what happened,” Spectre reminded. “There are thousands of places I could’ve died alone. By hands that wanted me gone, not just a little structural mishap.” Her grip secured, beaming mischievously. “And who knows. Maybe you’ll be next to join me.”
“Rotten floorboards? Crossbeam impalement? Aww, shucks.” Those were her own honeyed words, not a threat. Quiet knew it all too well with a chuckle himself. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. This was never going to be the usual ‘death do us part;’ you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” A toothy grin. “Stick with me, and we’ll make these cabin grounds the most spectacular morgue you’ve ever seen.”
Now that was some sweet talk. Momentarily caught off guard, Spectre blinked it off as she shifted comfortably in his grasp. “Mmh. We’ll see, Killer,” she purred. Words were difficult after all was said and done, yet she knew that they could make it through. “ … Thank you, by the way. For waiting,” Spectre mumbled sheepishly. Her eyes darted to a far corner. “Everyone who knows this story has left me in one way or another. Either captured, escaped, or—“
Quiet suppressed a giggle. Spectre stared. “I… It’s not funny —“
“C’mon, I’m not rolling over just yet. We’ve got this.” Quiet curled a finger around her until there was nothing left but them. “When life falls for death, anything’s possible.” A graze of talons against her cheek, lifting her to his face. “No obstacles we can’t overcome, no places we can reach. Not even…”
His voice trailed off. “… The Wild.”
Spectre hesitated. “I’d… Like that, Killer. I really would. But you know I’ve been trying to get in for years. You’re too alive and I’m too… Well...”
Quiet raised a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m—!!!”
Spectre paused the exasperated musings as she took in the shift around them. A solemn echo from somewhere beyond the grave, stirring in phantasmic chorus. That long-dead heart felt the pang of the world around them shifting away, looking up at Quiet in startled bewilderment.
“Quiet? What are you—?“
“I think you know, don’t you?” The dreary ghost leaned into his fingertips. “This little blend of perspectives; the sharing of information is what the Network thrives off of. And if you don’t believe me? Just let me lead. I’m taking you where you need to be.”
Spectre scoffed internally. There was no way he could actually —- No. This wasn’t possible. At least, it shouldn’t be; those tendriled trees had scarcely let her in before. It wasn’t like being with him alone could bridge that gap to the Wild now. This had to be some taunting dream.
“I can’t,” Spectre sighed. “It’ll just—“
“Push you out? Not this time.” A finger nestled against her cheek. “You have a vessel now; company.” Quiet churred the words absently. “I can’t guarantee anything, of course. But let’s give it a try. See if this time it’s different.”
The hesitation abated, and Spectre gave him a nervous nod. “… Okay, then. I’ll trust you.”
That longing gaze finally settled on him as roots unfolded on the paths along open palms. Upon acceptance, the bedroom drifted away. Yet still feeling the chill of phantasmic skin, it confirmed it for Spectre all at once:
This wasn’t a dream.
Shapes became less tangible, more outlined as his voice carried forward. The space grew static and calm. Quiet only had eyes for her as it all continued, taking them on towards hallowed ground.
“But we’re not done yet, are we?”
“I don’t think a person is ever ‘done’ with talking. There’s a lot I want to ask and work out, yea. But let’s take it one step at a time, ok?”
“Ok.”
A vast, dark space enshrouded them until their silhouettes filled the space. Two pairs of longing, milky stares. One heart beating for both of them. Veins of white entwined their shoulders. Sensation returned.
“I just…” Quiet fluffed his feathers. “That’s a lot for one night. I think we can wait to talk about the rest.”
Spectre nodded. “That sounds like a plan, Killer.”
Quiet huffed. “You’re never going to stop calling me that, are you?”
“Nope,” Spectre purred, sticking out her tongue. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with it. Killer.”
It felt as though a lock had clicked in place. Whether Quiet was shrinking or Spectre was growing to meet his stature, it didn’t matter; it was evening out, bringing them gradually to level ground.
“Here we go again,” Quiet chuckled. “I guess this place really wants us to get some new perspective.”
“Doesn’t seem the forest is the only one,” Spectre trilled.
Quiet shook his head. “No. It’s not.”
The shift of gravity was muddling as perspectives blurred. Spectre hovered to place her hand to Quiet’s, mark to mark. A gentle tug against his fingers. A soft flit against them, leaning into the sway of eager gravity. Their statures began to even out and pull them deeper into their embrace; a dance beyond the confines of flesh and bone.
“My poor remorseful Killer,” Spectre trilled, giving a playful roll of her eyes. “What am I to do with you?”
“I think that’s up to you,” Quiet murmured, feeling the weight of her increase with the adjustment. “But I certainly have some ideas.”
A courteous bow, wagging his tail feathers. Giggling, Spectre reciprocated. Hand in hand intertwined, the hollow ache was finally dull and warm, sweeping them both off their feet. Gradual readjustment was settling in as they soirred through the nerves of the trees. And finally, it was just enough to finally meet eye to eye.
Quiet’s form was proportionally settled only a foot or two above her own. His hands were just a little bigger, but close enough for Spectre to slot her digits between them.
“Well? I told y—!!!”
Knocked off his feet immediately, Quiet gave a startled yelp at the force of a tackling blow. Roots settled on the edge of Quiet’s form as he fell against the now-tangible weight of his spectral wife, pinning him down on hand and foot. He could see every skeletal mark and ounce of beaming pride in her dark-rimmed eyes; breathless as the dead as he took the reality in.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Spectre smirked. “I never thought I’d have the opportunity.”
“Oh yeah? Well, what if I told you I’d always wanted to do this?”
A falsely-protesting squeak as Quiet seamlessly flipped her over, planting a kiss on her lips. The squirming and fidgeting was mutual; here, Spectre was more tangible than anywhere else, and they were both using it to their advantage. After a couple play wrestles and pecks on the cheek, the pair rose to the new environment which carefully ensnared them.
The Wild was dead silent, save for the gospel of a thousand voices. Its surface retained shared conflicts and emotions, swirling in an empty torrent of sensation. Small veiny roots had connected carefully to their arms and legs, painting this landscape with a new sort of delight.
They were here. They were whole. And now, it was time to advance up that hill which led them to the entity that guarded this forest.
Quiet took Spectre’s hand, softly leading her forward. The little ghost slumped by his side nervously as they carried forward; the desire to harden her resolve was still there, but the Wild would not let that truth hide away. A gentle arm around her seemed to keep her steady as they approached the being: the Shifting Hound was waiting in all Her glory.
Footfalls grew silent as they met Her in the open abyss. Five maned heads encircled Her pristine neck as three stared forward; the final two’s eyes remained closed, as if they had not yet awoken. This being, this chimera, was a shapeshifter after all; the Cerberus which watched over the Wild’s entourage and claimed their attributes as Her own. So seeing the feathers and faded features on one side apiece was a good sign, if nothing else.
“Something finds me in the lonely Wilds and brings me the gift of two fragile vessels.” Her wording, much like Spectre’s, was ethereal in a different sense. Her paws were numerous as She ushered Her own pack from the woods within; small chimeras settled to link themselves into a draping garment. While their eyes, much like their leader’s, were Quiet’s same hollow, glowing white, their features resembled those who had been lost then found: a memorial for the dead as much as for the living.
“First time?” Spectre gazed at her slack-jawed husband, giving his hand a squeeze.
“I, uh… Yeah,” Quiet breathed. “I haven’t really had a reason to enter the Gates of Death.” The bird blinked. “But I guess you’ve been here quite a bit.”
“More times than I can track,” Spectre murmured. Her back slumped, sending rich waves of adrenaline in her wake. “It’s… Been a long time of debating.”
“I know it has. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you stayed.” Quiet nuzzled Spectre one more time before turning his head. “We’re here to see the Heiress,” Quiet addressed the Hound, bowing his head. “That’s possible, right?”
The Shifting Hound chuckled. You speak with the voice of a newborn fawn. Timid, frail, uncertain. What is and isn’t possible is a matter of perspective; if you believe it to be so, than thus it shall be. The deity paused a moment, catching Spectre’s gaze. You needn’t fear my presence, Wandering One; I am not here to forsake you. Your journey will come to an end eventually — but for now, you are on the right track to finding your own freedom.
Spectre’s form relaxed. Clearly, that was all she needed to hear. Let us resume. I understand there are several others waiting to see you.
The Shifting Hound settled to allow several small forms to detach from Her back and bumble towards mortal company. An emaciated being grasped Spectre’s hand, beaming up at phantom company. A small, beheaded form carried what was severed in a silvery cage. A torn-up corvid gripped Quiet’s palms. Old friends lingered in the faces of these floppy dogs. From avian nature to Borrowed roots, the entourage was finally coming together. And as they nodded approvingly to the larger being, it seemed the shifting mass parted to reveal the way through the tangled world.
They say you belong here, the Shifting Hound murmured. If your passage is temporary, I will grant it. We will meet again.
With a flick of Her tails, the cerebral being departed into the woods. Detached pups lagged behind as they, too, vanished into the nothingness and —
A deep, chasmic force was left in Her wake. The trees enlarged to immense heights, the blades of grass coming closer and thinner.
“It’s… Huh.” Quiet shuffled, grazing past a blade of grass. “I guess we’re starting here at your height?”
“And making our way up to yours, I imagine,” Spectre murmured breathlessly. “Shall we?”
Quiet grazed the spectral trance of her palm and secured it in his. A wing folded over his wife, who gave a churr of surprise. “Let’s surprise Her,” he explained. “It’s been a hard journey for all of us.” His smile deepened as Spectre wrapped his wing around her like a shawl, hiding herself from view as they plodded down the path.
With the buzz of long-dead wildlife and the patter of their steps, the Wild enveloped their newest entrants at last. Yet their weary, aching Heiress was a little worse for wear in Her shelter of tangled roots, watching the prowling form of something hungry just beyond its edge.
Idk anything about Tulip snakes but I looked them up and they seem cool! What demo voice options are there? :o
Tulip snakes are the most beautiful wonderful creatures alive. Basically they climb onto the employee and try to carry them off bc they like to carry heavy things to impress lady Tulip Snakes haha! As for the voices I am still looking into how they act but the ones exclusive to the demo are Voice of the Meek, Voice of the Doubting, Voice of the Obsessed, and Voice of the Flinching!
Tulip Snakes are explicitly stated to be bold little buggers which sorta leaves me stuck with Obsessed if I want to pursue this, unless I want to go with a Tulip Snake who is absolutely horrid at their one job.
