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Description

Drink up, baby, stay up all night
The things you could do
You won't but you might
The potential you'll be that you'll never see
The promises you'll only make

Drink up with me now and forget all about
The pressure of days and do what I say
And I'll make you okay and drive them away
The images stuck in your head
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Her feet fell quiet against lush green, frost nipping at her heels. The forest was soft, only the occasional bird chirping in the distance. Out here in the open, the days didn't feel so constricting. Her breath, soft and even with her heart, drifted out into the air in plumes of grey. The grass russled just beyond her line of sight, ears swiveling in time to catch sight of a flurry of a mess wriggling out from the bushes. His eyes, green and wild just like her mate's, bore unto her in such a way she couldn't help but smile. The small steps quieted as they approached, two flopping ears flicking back in a shy display. "Momma," the boy mumbled, his voice crackled behind a stem.

Ophelia let her body shift, and what was painful before became slightly easier, brows furrowing gently in his direction. "Yes, Oleander?"

The boy grinned then, paws stamping on the crystalized grass, bright eyes twinkling. "I'gt ya a flow'r!"

His mother smiled again, an equally delicate one that made the pup squirm to reach her side and peer up from his lower height. Ophelia looked over him once, noting the stains of mud coating his toes and belly along with the bits of branches that clung to his thin tail. "Do you know what kind of flower you have?" She murmured, head craning down to nose gently at her son's cheek. The boy giggled and shook his head, crinkling back from her affection only to return it with all the force he could muster. Ophelia let out a small oomph, a laugh blooming in her chest.

"It's a poppy, my child."

"Like Pappi?" Oleander questioned, the excitement deflating from his small features. Ophelia shook her head once, a mischeviously childish smirk playing on her lips.

"I'd say the flower is a bit sweeter," she mused.

Oleander giggled again, bouncing out infront of his mother's paws. His mom, graceful as she was, tiptoed around his frantic steps. "Not as sweet as you, mama!" The boy yipped, and his mother stooped down to pick the flower from his muzzle. Rare on affection, Oleander beamed up at her as she accepted his gift, and a small pink tongue greeted his mother's nose before it disappeared along with his body, the sound of little laughs falling after him as he tumbled off ahead. Ophelia held onto the flower, her smile fading to a small frown when her son faded from sight again. Not as sweet as you, darling.

Description

Drink up, baby, stay up all night
The things you could do
You won't but you might
The potential you'll be that you'll never see
The promises you'll only make

Drink up with me now and forget all about
The pressure of days and do what I say
And I'll make you okay and drive them away
The images stuck in your head
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Her feet fell quiet against lush green, frost nipping at her heels. The forest was soft, only the occasional bird chirping in the distance. Out here in the open, the days didn't feel so constricting. Her breath, soft and even with her heart, drifted out into the air in plumes of grey. The grass russled just beyond her line of sight, ears swiveling in time to catch sight of a flurry of a mess wriggling out from the bushes. His eyes, green and wild just like her mate's, bore unto her in such a way she couldn't help but smile. The small steps quieted as they approached, two flopping ears flicking back in a shy display. "Momma," the boy mumbled, his voice crackled behind a stem.

Ophelia let her body shift, and what was painful before became slightly easier, brows furrowing gently in his direction. "Yes, Oleander?"

The boy grinned then, paws stamping on the crystalized grass, bright eyes twinkling. "I'gt ya a flow'r!"

His mother smiled again, an equally delicate one that made the pup squirm to reach her side and peer up from his lower height. Ophelia looked over him once, noting the stains of mud coating his toes and belly along with the bits of branches that clung to his thin tail. "Do you know what kind of flower you have?" She murmured, head craning down to nose gently at her son's cheek. The boy giggled and shook his head, crinkling back from her affection only to return it with all the force he could muster. Ophelia let out a small oomph, a laugh blooming in her chest.

"It's a poppy, my child."

"Like Pappi?" Oleander questioned, the excitement deflating from his small features. Ophelia shook her head once, a mischeviously childish smirk playing on her lips.

"I'd say the flower is a bit sweeter," she mused.

Oleander giggled again, bouncing out infront of his mother's paws. His mom, graceful as she was, tiptoed around his frantic steps. "Not as sweet as you, mama!" The boy yipped, and his mother stooped down to pick the flower from his muzzle. Rare on affection, Oleander beamed up at her as she accepted his gift, and a small pink tongue greeted his mother's nose before it disappeared along with his body, the sound of little laughs falling after him as he tumbled off ahead. Ophelia held onto the flower, her smile fading to a small frown when her son faded from sight again. Not as sweet as you, darling.