|
The paint splattered shirt was open, revealing the stark white of her fur beneath, a splodge of green on the pristine fur. Taking the brushes from their water, the tall Katta used an edge of her shirt to clean and dry them before putting them carefully in her bag. With an inward groan, she used a blue tinted claw to scratch away the dried paint on her fur, her pink tongue flicking over her muzzle.
Ears swiveled in their direction; she wasn’t far from them so she had heard. Jade and hazel eyes flicked up to the pair and narrowed.
“Its going to rain, I think I’d prefer my work to stay dry. I dislike chaos and busy places, yet this was the closest building I could enter without being killed on sight.” Grumbling on in Kattaspeak she pushed the sketches in her bag and picked up her ale and strode toward them. Keirron towered over most, Lionoid blood dictation her huge and overpowering form.
“I am Keirron Ri’owa, my apologies, it has been a trying day.” The thick Katta accent of the north lengthened the R’s and shortened the A’s, but her grasp on the language was good.
|