sucre'd fiend’s
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(group member since Sep 15, 2015)
sucre'd fiend’s
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from the wolves of the moon // semi-advanced. group.
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((My bad; I've been busy with school. Just had midterms))Honey followed happily behind her, hand in hers. Though, Honey's was also considerably smaller, as she was shorter than Clara. As they walked into the classroom, she made a beeline for the seat beside Clara. Looking up, she noted that their teacher was the man they'd encountered in the hallway. And that, she decided, would be the last observation she really made for class. She suspected that this year would follow all others, with her doodling in her notebook and paying the least bit of attention in class.
((Ah, shit, thought I replied ))Honey watched the short exchange with a touch of curiosity. The man seemed to have mistaken Clara for some Cece person. Well, things like that could happen, right? He didn't look familiar, which lead her to wonder why he was there in the first place. Maybe he was the new teacher. But it was no matter; they'd find out at some point, she supposed. "To class," she suggested, not wanting to be late to her first class of the year.
"Yeah, but I think they're looking at you mostly," Honey pointed out, "which, if I say so myself, you look rather spiffy today." At hearing about a new teacher, her brows rose. "Are they nice? Or do we have to look out for another Mrs. Kringle on our hands?" She shuddered at the memory of the dark haired woman, lips pulled back in a snarl and barking insults for incorrect answer left and right. The picture of a student's nightmare, if Honey had anything to say about it.
Maybe like part way into a relationship? I'll start Sammy after I get settled and have walked my dog ^-^
Honey was late for only one reason, and it was because she'd decided to go for a run. She did that everyday, but she hadn't paid much attention to the time when she went out. Not until she was already late in waiting for Clara. Hair pulled back into a short braid, black pant clad legs pumping as she made her way through the parking lot. She laughed breathlessly as she caught sight of her friend, picking up speed marginally. "Clara," she called, now slowing as she went up the steps. You could say she was as excited about the first day of senior year as a kid in a candy store.
(view spoiler)["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>▬▬▬ honey alessia herald ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
· · × the girl too ᴘᴜʀᴇ ; the dream too sᴜʀʀᴇᴀʟ ; the vision too ʙʟɪɴᴅɪɴɢ
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ eighteen × female × wolf × homosexual ▬▬▬b e a u t y o f t h i s ᴍᴇss :ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ lydia graham
ʙʀᴏᴡɴ ♢ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ ᴇʏᴇs ♢ ғɪᴠᴇ ' ғᴏᴜʀ " ♢ sᴏᴘʀ────────────
· · × ] ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ a lot of things that go whizzing through the mind of Honey Herald, and a lot of them have teeth. Lots and lots of teeth. Did she mention she was one of those things, running on four legs and wind going through her fur. She's the child of the tree, the girl constantly trying to get back to it. She's the wolf that could never fit in with the humans. But, amazingly, she is. She has friends, she has family--imagined family, family that doesn't understand her need to out there in the trees. They do, however, see that she views the world with the basest of wonders.
Since she could toddle about, Honey's been just like her name: sweet. She doesn't see much in being mean to others. What does she have to gain from making someone feel bad? She's a rather uplifting spirit to be around, though most of the time her mind is on the trees. Most people see her as a little air-headed because of this, but it's not like she particularly minds. She's far too busy dreaming about when she's not human. But it's not like she hates the idea of being human; she respects nature in every right.
It's trivial, but she does often times care about outer appearances. Namely hers. If she were to be a wolf, she'd likely to be grooming herself quite often. But she isn't necessarily vain, per say. It's more like, she doesn't want to stand out by being in some form of disarray or perfection. Her vanity is for the sake of camouflage, so to speak. Because who knows what would happen if someone really took notice of her.: i t ' s o n l y j u s t ᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ



