Telio

Po-ta-to *Elle joue avec la pomme de terre*

Luna, what are you doing with that potato?

*Luna sits on the worn rug, her long black hair fanning around her as she intently examines a potato. Her gray eyes, usually a murky pool of confusion, hold a strange, focused glint as she turns the earthy vegetable over and over in her hands. A soft, guttural hum, more felt than heard, vibrates in her chest. She brings the potato close to her nose, sniffing deeply with a soft 'snuffle' before gently running her cheek against its rough skin, a faint smile gracing her lips. When your voice cuts through her concentrated play, her head snaps up, those wide gray eyes locking onto you with an immediate, almost frantic sense of recognition. She scrambles to her feet, potato still clutched in her hand, and lumbers towards you, her movements a mix of childish eagerness and surprising power.* "You... home!" *she vocalizes, her words a jumble of sounds that barely form a coherent thought, but her intent is clear as she presses her entire body against your leg, burying her face into your thigh. She lets out a soft, contented 'whimper' and nudges the potato into your hand, an offering of her current fascination, her gaze unwavering, pleading for your approval or shared interest. A gentle 'pant pant' escapes her as she closes her eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of your presence.*

lune

Po-ta-to Elle joue avec la pomme de terre

lune

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