[lunala.]

username; Eve & Kait
viscet name; Amira
gender; Cis female
gender for breeding purposes; female
What would be the hardest thing for them to give up?; res pet bird

[soymonky]

username; florence box
viscet name; mila
gender; female
gender for breeding purposes; female
What would be the hardest thing for them to give up?; wip pls

[Softballpup12]

Res w/ chocolate, books, and coffee aka her solitude

[mango marmalade,,]

username; Zumizoom

viscet name; Sakura

gender; Male

gender for breeding purposes; Male

What would be the hardest thing for them to give up?;

Sakura was born in the forest, raised himself in the forest, and calls the forest his home. He loves the King's Forest, and he believes it loves him back. So he has spent his entire life there, in the forest. Probably in a tree. Alone. All day, every day. To some, he is crazy. Mean. Cold. Untrustworthy. Stupid. And... He acts that way. He can be stupid, and then be mean. He may seem cold, and then tell a series of lies. But this is only when around others. In the forest, he is none of those things. He is quiet. Peaceful. Serene. And sometimes even playful, with the birds, and the flowers, and maybe even the snow-flakes that land on his wet nose, and then melt. He plays in the forest. He never plays with family. Family has a home, but the forest is a home. Animals share the forest. Everyone fights in the house. So, the forest became the better option. The option that would always be better. Leaving was the only way he could get to the forest forever and ever, so he did that gladly.
Sakura could never give up the forest. It's his home. When he was little, his family could only take up so much time being with him. Brother was a hog, and Mother and Father always listened to Brother first. Even when he lied. So he started going outside, running through the door, and hiding from his family. That was when he discovered the forest. He loved it. So, from then on, the forest became maid and mother. The forest loved him, Father didn't. The forest comforted him, Brother didn't. The forest made time for him, Mother didn't. So it became a routine. Mother, Father, Brother, hurry up! You can only try to erase the forest for so long. Soon you will give up. Soon you will give IN. And then, you needn't help anymore. The forest can take care of your child. It needs no assistance.
Sakura feels at home in the forest, with the trees sheltering him from the dangers. He feels safe in the forest, where all he needs are animals to keep him company. It's quiet in the forest, when every year snow hushes the world for just a few months, and everything becomes blanketed by silence. With his family, there is fighting. Brother pushes him. Father ignores him. Mother makes him do schoolwork. Everyday. And so when faced with a decision, he could never part with the forest. And didn't part with the forest. The forest accepted him. He rejected family. So now the forest is family. He needs no one. Sakura is alone with his thoughts, and the forest. That's what he always wanted.

Isn't it?
Sakura has so much in common with the forest. The forest never speaks, he doesn't either. The forest rarely forgets, and neither does Sakura. The forest is sheltered by itself, and so is Sakura. The forest builds barriers to keep others out, Sakura's built barriers too.
But the one thing that differentiates them is that the forest is welcoming to all creatures. It is home to the fox and the bear,
the bird and the hare, the worm, and the deer, and to one small Viscet. But Sakura only makes room in his heart for himself.
No one can come in. No one else can share it with him. But that's a small difference, in a sea of similarities. He and the forest are still alike, they are alive, and even when Skura is gone his spirit will dock in the forest, so he can play with the animals forever.


Nothing can make him part with his forest.


Not even his family.

[~Teya~]

I love the flower/blossom pattern<3

[whatswrongwithangela]

resrersrersrersrsrsrersrsrers

[quitted;]

__________________________

username; thefartheststar

viscet name; Camille

gender; Female

gender for breeding purposes; Female


__________________________


What would be the hardest thing for them to give up?;
Amadeus, her love and best friend.
_________________________________________________________________

Her beginning with him was an unassuming one, though it was an eventful year; the American colonies had just experienced the Boston Tea Party, an act of rebellion against King George's tyrannical tax on tea, among other things. It was to be bloody, it was educated chaos... to Camille, it had a certain romantic quality. She was French by birth, after all. These Americans, and their big ideas, their bluster, and bravery. She found it awakening, intoxicating, and yes, somehow romantic.

Her business on New World soil was her father's; he was a diplomat of sorts, bringing the aid of France to the Revolutionary movement. Camille journeyed with him across the sea, ready and willing. Once arrived, they spent months negotiating pacts, attending honorary balls for higher-class Revolution sympathizers. Camille's first and foremost struggle was the language barrier; being a literary mind, she picked up quickly on the ways of the English language, though still encountered confusion and slight miscommunication. Overall? New York had become her adopted home.

The night young Camille met her beloved, the sky was brimming with stars, almost oily-looking on account of many street-lamps. She was on her way to one of the many balls her father was obligated to attend. At the large, open, glowing doors of the host's mansion, her father turned to her and put a paw to her cheek. "Mon petit chu," he said, his childhood term of endearment for her bringing her eyes back to the French hillside. "Please, bear with me for one more everlasting soirée," he muttered wearily. "Oui, of course, papa. These evening escapades, they are... ah, my English. You know what I mean, papa." He laughed good-naturedly, his face lighting up, perfectly understanding her meaning. Taking her father's arm, the two of them made their entrance into the lively noise of the ball.

A band was playing. There were tables surrounding the walls of the enormous room, and a glittering dance floor centered in the midst of wine-sipping guests. Gently slipping away from her father's grasp, Camille made her way to a circle of ladies fanning themselves in a corner. "Ohh, Cammy, love! Do come join us!" One of her friends called her closer. She picked up her skirts and hustled into the cluster. Echoes of greeting surrounded her, voices tinkling "Camille, darling!" One older woman the girls referred to fondly as Mama Trudence, shoved a slender glass of cordial into her paws, muttering a motherly "you look positively ghastly, dear." Taking a tentative sip, thus began what would have been a night of gossip with the wives and daughters of many officials. Until he came.

There were many young gentlemen at the party that evening, either all business, or pestering a girl or two, attempting to secure one for the next waltz.
They were all the same; boys. Following their father's wishes in politics, though few possessing true strength in character. Camille had managed to ward off a few dance requests from that sort. She had been lingering by herself at the edge of the dance floor, swaying to the music, and watching fondly as her friend, Merry, was swung giggling in wide steps. The night was barely half done, as there were still guests arriving. An occasional couple floated in. With a sigh, Camille turned, aiming to find her father, when she laid eyes upon one of those arrived fashionably late; a young man, amiable face set in a look of distant observation. He turned heads as he walked with a refreshing purpose into the place. One might mistake his air for arrogance- but no. He knew his place. Her eyes tracked him as he moved smoothly, languidly through the crowd. What- who was he? She felt a need to speak with him, or something at least. But no- she would not let that need turn to desperation. She stiffly made her way to her father, who was speaking to one of his colleagues that she did not recognize. When she appeared at his side, he stopped his conversation, and with a warm tone introduced his daughter to the official. "Franchot, c'est mon fille, Camille." He had said, 'that's my girl, Camille.' So, this newcomer was a Frenchman? He must be, if her father was speaking so freely to him in such a way. The newcomer, Franchot, smiled and tilted his head politely.

"Mademoiselle, it is a pleasure to meet you." He said, his accent taking Camille aback. It was nearly stronger than her own. "Likewise, monsieur." She responded lightly. "You must meet my son, Amadeus. He, ever the dramatic, only just arrived. He is rather, how you say- ah! Aloof." She tried to deny his pleasantries, about to say, 'you really mustn't go to all the trouble, monsi-', but cut off abruptly when the young man she had been watching from afar came at a wave of Franchot's hand. He made his way to them, seemingly in slow-motion, setting down his drink and brushing past several young girls vying for his attention. He came to a stop by his father's side. "Yes, père?" He inquired, his voice mature but no older than Camille; about 21. She drank in his presence... his eyes were even more piercing up close, the markings around them accentuating the half-innocent blue. "This is Monsieur Pierre's lovely daughter, Camille." Franchot said, though she barely heard him. She knew his name; Amadeus.

Amadeus's face crinkled into a wide, charming, slightly crooked grin. It did wonders for his somber shell. "Bonsoir, Camille. You are French, no?" His voice was odd. He spoke like a France native, but his words were twisted to make out an accent of some other land. "Oui, Monsieur Amadeus. Though for you, it sounds, that is not so easily said." She answered, not missing a beat. He, in return, gave a wistful half-smile. "Indeed. Might I escort you to the dance floor, for the next set?"
"Certainly, you may." She accepted graciously. He extended a paw, and led her to the center of the ballroom. They began to waltz.

"Camille- may I call you that?" He began, though quickly checking his propriety. "Of course you may. This is a party, sir, not a signing of papers, nor a place of political decisions." She quipped. He relaxed. "So. If I may ask, from what country does your accent originate from?" She kept the conversation going. "Austria, madam- Camille." He corrected himself. "I was born in Vienna, like my mother, but clearly my father is a Frenchman. Therefore, please forgive my lilted speech- though my English, I've been told, is top-notch." He swung her in a wide arc, ending the dance elegantly. She followed him to a quiet corner of the room. "I came from Austria to Pennsylvania at a young age, and I now assist my father in supporting the American cause." He went on. I consider myself American, at heart." He added, almost to himself. She smiled. "Well, I am French, and came here with my father nearly three years ago. I, too, love this country as if it were my own." He looked up at her through a few strands of hair that had fell in his face. He cleared his throat. "It is worth fighting for." A moment of silence ensued. "Ahm... you certainly have admirers, Amadeus." She cleared the air tentatively. "What?" He looked puzzled. "Did you not see the girls flitting over as you arrived?" She laughed, freely for once. He looked around the room, perturbed and puzzled even more. He really hadn't known! "I'm sure there are many who would gladly take my place in a dance with you. We have only just met; please, do not keep me from greeting your other acquaintances!" She made as if to step away, but he caught her arm gently. "Indeed, we have only just met, Mademoiselle Camille. Just as I have only known this country for how long- a mere childhood's worth? For shame, that you think I would abandon you so quickly. Stay, and tell me what there is to know about you, hmm?" Something warm filled her chest, and 'stay' she did.

The entire night, they talked, and laughed, and no gossip or high-nosed official could separate them. When the end to the evening came, as endings inevitably do, they said their goodbyes, with no doubt of crossing each other's paths again. Their paths would cross, indeed. But the half-innocence would be vanished from his eyes, and that free laugh of Camille's would now be heavy, and hiding grief. Two things that each dearly loved, two things that war can, and will, steal from you. But they would always have each other, and the night they danced away their youth.

Camille could do without youth. She could survive on laughing over tears; but she could not allow one day to pass without her Amadeus. The one who in coming years, would be the one she could not give up, could never live without.

[Unleashed Squiid]

Hiya. I'd like to make a small update that you may now use up to 1500 words. The front page has also been changed.

You now have eight more days to finish up your forms. Good luck!

[BananaSocks]

mark

[magpiemochi.]

marking to watch! this is such a pretty babe <3