Recent content by Vihmastaja

Vihma's eyes tracked the albino marten as he steadied himself, going a bit wide with the comment about killing. It was something drunken, seemingly random, but the weasel felt a flicker of confused unease anyway. Memories of blood and despair in the dark came and went - the marten had probably...

Vihma was thoughtful, taking another drink of her ale as the barmaid went to attend to another beast. Of course, it was easier said than done, showing Morgan the extent of her feelings. Something stopped her still, some fear of judgement, or worse, that she might expose the depth of her...

Vihma made a choking noise, her face contorting between several different emotions. It was easy enough to chalk up to sour drink, and the weasel coughed to clear her throat, whatever the cause. "Think I always got a good 'and, jus' a matter of... beasts gottin' a better one, or folding on me...

Vihma laughed through her nose, as though dismissive of the thought. Leaning against the counter, she took a long swill of the ale, enough that she closed her eyes and had to cough when she'd had her fill. Wiping her mouth with the back of her paw, the weasel offered the barmaid a smile for...

It wasn't often that Vihma went to the Bilge. Once upon a time she'd try to come along with her crew on outings to bars like this, involving herself in the revelry so much as she could to keep a good name for herself. On the Valdez, it had mostly been an exercise in futility, and more often than...

The blush beneath her fur intensified with the knowing laughter of the marines, though Vihma made to raise her muzzle slightly, not desiring to wilt under the attention. In any case, the Lieutenant took it all in stride, giving her an approving touch and a nod, and then it was back to business...

Vihma did as she was told, reacting with some small surprise as the fox lieutenant moved the comb through her fur. On some level she felt embarrassed. There was an implication that she was not able to groom herself, such that she resented. But it wasn't a terrible feeling having someone else pay...

The tawny-furred weasel kept her eyes forward. "Private Rhoodie, sir." Her last name had gotten a lot more use since her entry into the marines. It wasn't something new or unusual for beasts of authority to call her by, but still felt odd to use for herself. "If it pleases ye sir, I'd like...

Vihma listened to lieutenant Tultow's words, trying not to show the thoughts she felt. It still surprised her, seeing the beast as he was now, the unshakeable hero of Urk's shores somehow still standing and fighting after horrifying injury, rallying her and his beasts to a final stand they'd...

The weasel wasn't sure how she was supposed to keep her fur smoothed upon waking, short of shearing large parts of it off, which she figured would make her even less presentable. Morgan, at least, would no doubt be disappointed - she had a feeling the ferret rather liked her fur as it was...

Vihma kept her eyes ahead, at attention, as she'd been expected to be. She thought she saw the Lieutenant - her lieutenant, Tultow - off by the side of the marine quarters, issuing what seemed to be reassuring smile. She breathed through her nose, knowing not to match the stoat's expression - to...

Dreaming had never been her strong suit. Like a candle that flickers and fails in the night, quick, confused dreams played out in her mind, twisting and transforming from one strange image to another beneath the ruffled, brightly orange fur of Vihma’s sleeping head. This time she was back home...

Vihma tried to pay attention to the speech, truly tried. She still didn't know him well, and what she'd heard had been interesting. She raised her glass a bit to the toast, thankfully sober enough to keep it steady, even as Morgan leaned into her, a comfort she could hardly resist mirroring...

Vihma nodded along with Morgan's introduction, sipping from her drink as the others spoke. As it happened, she finished near as soon as the birthday beast did, letting her empty glass hang in her paw. "May'aps," the weasel said, turning her muzzle nearer to the ferret who had her under her arm...

Vihma didn't have any victory to relish in. "W-wait," she said, bounding to Morgan's side as she made their path out. "Yer not mad, are ye?" The weasel still looked over her shoulder once more as they moved on, but she had a different worry now. "Ye know its jus’… ‘cus of my past, is all...