#794171464562
Belongs to 's Pride
(View Former Prides)

lounging foxes and reeds

brass . white foreshadow"

This lioness will come into heat in 2 days.

Lion Stats
Experience	424 / 440 (96%)
Level	3
Strength	11	Speed	12
Stamina	7	Smarts	14
Agility	13	Skill	3
Born With:	Unknown	Total Stats:	60

Lion Currents
Age	7 years, 2 months old
Hunger	0%
Mood	100%
Sex	Female
Pose	Default
Personality	Needy (Snarky)

Adult Stage

Breeding Info
Father	Rìluò (Deceased)	Mother	fēngyè	View Full Heritage
Last Bred	23 days ago	Fertility	Average (74%)	View All Cubs Bred (0)

Appearance		Markings
Base	Brass (Brown Skin)	Slot 6: White Frosting (13%) Tier 1 Slot 8: White Foreshadow (44%) Tier 3
Genetics	Red Dark Countershaded Common
Eyes	Intense Gold
Mane Type	Sideward
Mane Color	Ebony
Mutation	Folded Ears
Marking Slots	10

Equipped Decorations Hide/Show
Wallowing Pit Above Drake Veil [Solar] Amber Fox Reed Canary Grass [1]

Lifetime Hunting Results
Total Hunts	3	Successful Hunts	3	Success Rate	100%

Biography
artist paints a flower on the hillside. i paint myself as a flower poised at the top of something. but it's not good art, it's all reaching without the growth. sunlight kisses maples with her dappled lips so i'm left feeliing lonely again. like a dreamer who can't sleep or a star gone transparent. shivering in waned night, waiting for something warmer to sweep me off my feet. looking for a dance at dawn, for the artist to return, spy the gossamer bruised purple of my mouth, cup my face, and say, "told you, should've been a riverbed instead." full of lounging foxes and reeds learning how to breathe through all that moss and mud. "should've been an angel instead." soft as an uncaught spark, but god the burning that would rise from you, so much wilder than marigolds devouring meadows with their yellow teeth and endless, earthy-green stomaches. - keaton st. james

Biography

artist paints a flower on the hillside.
i paint myself as a flower poised at the top of something.
but it's not good art, it's all reaching without the growth.

sunlight kisses maples with her dappled lips so i'm left
feeliing lonely again. like a dreamer who can't sleep
or a star gone transparent. shivering in waned night,
waiting for something warmer to sweep me off
my feet.

looking for a dance at dawn, for the artist to return,
spy the gossamer bruised purple of my mouth,
cup my face, and say, "told you, should've been a
riverbed instead."
full of lounging foxes and reeds learning how to breathe
through all that moss and mud.

"should've been an angel instead."
soft as an uncaught spark, but god the burning that would
rise from you, so much wilder than marigolds devouring
meadows with their yellow teeth and endless, earthy-green
stomaches.

- keaton st. james

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