Moving bumps the girl about at first, but she lowers her arms gradually to better hold on to their sides, and her grip on their fur relaxes gradually.
"Red," she mumbles to herself, squinting through the dull shadows cast by the diffuse morning light. Golden feathers glow faintly; their yellow light faintly traces little hollows in the paving stones as Frisk steps over them.
"Red," repeats Red—this time louder slightly than the breeze rustling the grass. "I'll be Red. I'd be a bird if I could—so I may as well be Red."
She presses her face into the curious texture of Frisk's fur. "Where did it come from?—the story. What is it, I mean?"
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ooooh this is a good name... i might reuse it later...
Date: 2018-01-15 02:08 pm (UTC)"Red," she mumbles to herself, squinting through the dull shadows cast by the diffuse morning light. Golden feathers glow faintly; their yellow light faintly traces little hollows in the paving stones as Frisk steps over them.
"Red," repeats Red—this time louder slightly than the breeze rustling the grass. "I'll be Red. I'd be a bird if I could—so I may as well be Red."
She presses her face into the curious texture of Frisk's fur. "Where did it come from?—the story. What is it, I mean?"