Username: LOSTINUNKNOWN.
Cat Name: Rhene (Formerly), Phulássōskia.
Gender: Female.
Rank: Divine.
Clan: Astron.
Age: Immortal, estimated to be less than a millennia.
Prompt: 500 words. Apologies if there are any errors.In consequence of the simple fact Phulássōskia is the sole divine risen of Hestia's paws, she cannot recall the majority of her past life. However, there is one sole memory her mind refuses to forgo - one of which is what she denotes as "the fondest memory with a half-brother prior to death". The memory is as follows:
Frigid spurs of air born upon the summit of the silver-saturated horizon swiftly trickled through the composition of Towering Root stem and scarcely shifting wings of leaves donning the firm rock arches of the farthest northern quarters belonging to
Phaethon with each comprehensive beat whereupon Rhene deftly tread closer in proximity to such, leading the interwoven adornment of the threshold ajar and languidly adjusting her gaze to the abrupt flood of voided expanse permeating the quarter prior to settling upon the shivering form of her brother perched atop the softened cluster of moss serving as a makeshift bedding, therein she resolved to cautiously prodding her muzzle against the chocolate tabby fur of his side in an endeavor to wake him upon meeting his side by absent-minded pawsteps - the vaporized bursts of breath erupting steadily from her throat pooling subtly against her brother's side at the prompt.
"Come one, Phaethon." Rhene whispered, lest their superiors hear. "Get up."
"Mmgh..." Phaethon groaned, stirring in his position. "Why?"
The humid streams of Rhene inhale thereafter fostered an instinctive hiss of faint irritation, "Adventure. Let's go."
"What are you talking about?" Phaethon slurred the nickname-borne question, groggily staggering to his paws nonetheless.
"Follow." Rhene tersely ordered, manuevering her paw pads against the coarse rock-laden flooring from which she came.
Abruptly halting the tufts of white fur binding the anatomy of her paws directly afore the bathes of silver soaking the cave's entrance, Rhene inbreathed the heady aromas of crisp abundance and the rich nectar of stillness sheening the forest beyond into the avoli weaved into her lungs, swiftly darting into the clusters of snow settled beyond the entrance in bouts of practiced ease drawn upon her limbs in spite of the biting of the ice gnawing at her paw pads - juxtaposing Phaethon's brief hesitancy at the prompt. A distinctive mosiac of sown white specks clinging to her pelt as she estatically leapt down the various hills entertained in winter's mark and much further from the cave, whilst her brother, inchmeal, advanced down the slopes in tremorous shifts.
Phaethon grumbled beneath the sheer weight of chill bleeding into his pelt, "Akakia, slow down!"
"Owl, quicken your movements!" Rhene teased in reply, to which Phaethon merely lashed the summit of his tail.
"There isn't any need to-" Phaethon began, interjecting himself at the prompt of the viridescent pools of his irises settling upon a knot of grass blades lacking the snow's stroke.
"What's that?" Rhene questioned, pivoting.
Phaethon sedately pressed the tufts of white fur binding the seams of his chest to the bitter earth, positioning his nose upon the composition.
The memory blurs from then.