don't talk 'bout me like how you might know how i feel
top of the world, but your world isn't real
top of the world, but your world isn't real
“Sounds good, sis.” Caly hums, shooting her sister a grin that mostly aims toward her back as she darts off to start compelling the birds to remove them. She takes her time shifting into her tide jaguar shift, clawing at the damp earth to create the line of where the bank would be with the instruction of the flags to guide her. She digs, places a rock, digs a little more further down and places another rock.
On and on she goes even as the birds cry out and slip away, guided toward the new spaces that would become nests and homes, far more comfortable than this array of a mess. She encounters a small bush at one point, and between her claws and her teeth, she manages to uproot it, but the rock proves a little more difficult to get settled into the hole left behind.
On and on she goes even as the birds cry out and slip away, guided toward the new spaces that would become nests and homes, far more comfortable than this array of a mess. She encounters a small bush at one point, and between her claws and her teeth, she manages to uproot it, but the rock proves a little more difficult to get settled into the hole left behind.
Calypso
your world's an ideal
