"You can do it, Whimsies... just talk to her. Tell her she's cute, and that you love her veil even though you have no idea where she found a wolf skull. Like, really, what is her family's deal with wearing wolf skulls?" The grey and white wolf paused in her frantic pacing, her expression intense with concentration. It had been a few weeks since She Whispers of Winter's Whimsies had felt... off. Really, it was only when she was in the presence of another female wolf that she felt like her stomach would not settle and that the tightness in her chest would not loosen. The lady in question was Broomsedge, who was pretty. Very pretty.
Extremely pretty.
Who was she? The daughter of a Shrine Keeper and the Alpha, though her father had never been publicly acknowledged. So, the daughter of a Shrine Keeper, then. It was a respectable bloodline, but meant nothing when compared to Broomsedge's intelligence and elegance. They had seen one another on occasion in the pack, but hadn't gotten any chance to connect until She Whispers of WInter's Whimsies had gotten sick at the start of the winter season.
Her father had said it was from rolling around in the snow too much, but Whimsies refused to believe that something so beautiful could be so deadly. Regardless of the source of her illness, she had been directed into Broomsedge's, an aspiring herbalist, care. In the days that followed where she remained in Broomsedge's care, they had gotten to talk and know one another. Whimsies swore that she had felt a connection then. She had grown infatuated with the female, and while Whimsies was young and admittedly a little flirtatious... no other wolf made her feel the same way.
She sucked in a deep breath and tried to gather her wits, after all she was almost near Broomsedge's den. Clearly, dwelling over the upcoming confession wasn't helping her nerves. Perhaps her best approach would be to get it over with quickly, like pulling a thorn out of one's paw. "Okay, yeah, I can do this. I can totally do this!" she chanted. Her voice was naturally lyrical, but in Whimsies current state of mind her tone was sharp and her words jumbled together.
She was a mess, and would remain a mess all the way to Broomsedge's den. It was time to make an elegant confession and then wait for Broomsedge to realize that 'oh' she loved Whimsies too. "ILOVEYOUSOMUCHPLEASEBEMYMATE!" Whimsies screeched.
The words echoed throughout the swamplands, startling some of the fauna back into their burrows and hollows. Whimsies visibly winced, her ears flicked back against her skull. Her lush grey tail tucked itself just slightly between her legs as moments that seemed like minutes passed by.
Out from the den appeared another wolf, and Whimsies' jaw dropped in abject horror at the sight of someone who was not the love of her life. Monkshood, with his own veil covering his face, stared mutely at Whimsies for a few long and painful seconds. Finally, the male cleared his throat and tilted his head politely at the female. "Mother is not home right now."
"OHMYSPIRITSI'MSOSORRYBYEEEE!"
"She'll be back soon --"
"BYE." Whimsies yelled as she scurried away, her heart pounding loud in her chest and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.