[ late into march, the walls of a three room apartment had become too small to satisfy eren especially when night had come, and brought with it more activity that needed burning. he’d take many forms, then, mostly dependent on the eyes that saw him, but at the moment it was compact, sleek and pitched with inky black fur that shined silver under malachite’s moon. the fox trots right through the patches of shadow born from high buildings and glowing lamp posts, and settles his attention on a child walking with their hand wrapped around their mother’s, another holding a delighting treat from festive stalls to make way for spring (and the primavera getaway). the child was slurping away at an ice cream cone one minute, then a dry, brittle little stick the next. by the time they threw their tongue around a vanilla scoop, it was around bark.
the child would begin to cry, of course, but there the fox sat with a cone sticking out from between its teeth to give a lasting snicker and— oh, cold. ]
@kaede
the child would begin to cry, of course, but there the fox sat with a cone sticking out from between its teeth to give a lasting snicker and— oh, cold. ]