Nova
"EWWWAH!"
The yell echoes down the partially paved road, sharp and indignant. Standing at its origin is Nova, staring at the hem of her dress like it's said the most offensive thing (if you guessed: 'Glitter is the worst,' you'd be right). Her hands fan out the bright yellow material marred with a splattering of gross, brown, sticky, memory mud. The furrow in her brow might as well be a valley for how far down her face it travels, nearly reaching the star speckles of her cheeks. "I just made this!"
Unsurprisingly, Caido is in short supply of vibrant yellow dresses decorated with stars and stitched with an abundance of gems to make it sparkle in the Flowerbirth sunlight. It's why Nova is all the more upset to see it ruined by the mud that's inhaled the road. She'd had the forethought to wear her red strawberry rain boots, but had thought her dress sat high enough around her calves to avoid the wrath of travelers past.
Apparently not, the playful substance reaching forward to stake its claim on her wardrobe. Her hand bats away another tendril, buffering it with more magic than physical contact to avoid adding more grossness for her to clean up. "Leave me alone." There's a pout on her face, one that might convince any sentient beings to obey, but having little affect on the mucky substance. Regardless, the dangerous glint in her eyes suggests that the mud might want to find a conscious thought and some semblance of self-preservation if it doesn't want to end up blasted to oblivion.
The yell echoes down the partially paved road, sharp and indignant. Standing at its origin is Nova, staring at the hem of her dress like it's said the most offensive thing (if you guessed: 'Glitter is the worst,' you'd be right). Her hands fan out the bright yellow material marred with a splattering of gross, brown, sticky, memory mud. The furrow in her brow might as well be a valley for how far down her face it travels, nearly reaching the star speckles of her cheeks. "I just made this!"
Unsurprisingly, Caido is in short supply of vibrant yellow dresses decorated with stars and stitched with an abundance of gems to make it sparkle in the Flowerbirth sunlight. It's why Nova is all the more upset to see it ruined by the mud that's inhaled the road. She'd had the forethought to wear her red strawberry rain boots, but had thought her dress sat high enough around her calves to avoid the wrath of travelers past.
Apparently not, the playful substance reaching forward to stake its claim on her wardrobe. Her hand bats away another tendril, buffering it with more magic than physical contact to avoid adding more grossness for her to clean up. "Leave me alone." There's a pout on her face, one that might convince any sentient beings to obey, but having little affect on the mucky substance. Regardless, the dangerous glint in her eyes suggests that the mud might want to find a conscious thought and some semblance of self-preservation if it doesn't want to end up blasted to oblivion.
- Smile - sparkle -
- Shine -
