Recent content by Vihmastaja

Moving furniture was a welcome change from moving things back on the ship – on the Hide. Even after the carnage back on shore, in the opera house just a short month ago, Vihma felt herself dreading the time when she’d have to sail out again. For as many dark memories as the city held, and as...

The weasel had looked away, too humbled by her expectations to face Morgan, even as the words came back more and more hopeful. When she turned back to her, the emotion in her eyes matched the ferret's, relief running off from her burning facefur in warm, gentle streaks. Vihma almost dropped the...

Vihma frowned. "Maybe a lil bit," the weasel admitted. She turned to face the ferret, staying silent as she fished something from her satchel. It was the telescope from Piper's crossbow - expensive government property, not that Vihma particularly cared. It was of more use here than on the...

Vihma was back to looking embarrassed. She didn't quite meet Morgan's eyes. "Moreso before eh, before that, of course," the weasel said, gesturing back to the ladder. Shame for her spot not having been as it was before, for her not having led Morgan to it more easily, she nevertheless felt...

Vihma had already made it up to the top. Of course, she had experience with the specific climb, and seasons of pulling herself up and down the rigging of masts taller than any shop in the Trenches. She looked down at Morgan, face full of concern, though she seemed unsure what to do, decidedly...

"Oh, right. Ehm..." The weasel stopped in her tracks, looking around. The streets weren't quite empty, especially near to the docks, even at the later hour, but she paid no heed for the beasts around - whatever wandering eyes and distant voices haunted their surroundings - looking more...

Vihma's smile returned ever so slightly, brought on by the brief contact with Morgan and kept by her words of encouragement. "Well, what's your secret, then?" The weasel nudged Morgan back, more than a little closely, but all the more softly, brushing the ferret's whiskers with her own as she...

The weasel managed a laugh. It was the bitter kind, like she was the joke and her words were the punchline. "I was. Feels like a long time ago, now." Vihma held her head high, though it was apparent it was because she felt she had something to prove. There wasn't a point of pride among her...

The weasel smiled, despite the matter of Morgan's time in the infirmary. The ferret was here now, alive, safe beside her. She tried not to think of how close things had come. As the subject changed to the shape of the streets around them, Vihma nodded her head, looking around some as they...

Vihma felt her face flush under her fur, breathing a silent chuckle as Morgan made another one of her plans known. She brushed her whiskers, looking to the ferret and then away again, certain words catching in her throat before she could say them. As they made their way out the door and down...

Vihma watched Morgan wince with more than a hint of guilt. She remembered too well how she'd been pulled from the water, bloody and still. How she'd had to check the ferret's pulse just to assure herself she was still alive. How she'd lost track of her for such a short time, and almost lost her...

Vihma’s whiskers flicked in embarrassed amusement. Daring a look towards Morgan, the weasel considered the possibility of them sharing the bed – thought of the stronger ferret’s comforting presence beside her, the warmth of her body against her own, of her gentle breath on her fur. The weasel...

When the shrew chieftain fell, and Urk's combined armies scattered after the reveal of some bloodied beast's massive head, Vihma was already sporting a few new cuts - near-misses from spears thrown and stabbed her way as she'd fought to flank the chieftain with Tultow and the other weasel. The...

Vihma hadn’t said too much throughout the meal. Oh, she was happy to be there – happy to be with Morgan and her family, adding to whatever stories Morgan brought up about their trip. It still felt strange, having beasts to return to after a voyage. To be welcomed here as a part of something, not...

Vihma didn't reply to either Shorris's cry or Tultow's order. There wasn't the space to, in a sense. With shrews on her left, her right, and ahead of her, she couldn't muster the concentration to shout back a response, busy trying to keep her lifeblood within her veins. Still, the weasel could...