Trei{Male.}___________________________Krathvien{Fem.}___________________________Abigail{Fem.}.............................................................There was no practicality of an odder trio being anywhere else, the three of them together was just so amazingly, completely, positoosly, absoluteleriffically...
unforgiveable that normal society looked down upon it in shame. There was the strange foster brother, always squabbling with someone, the shy middle sister, and the complete wackjob friend of the sister that liked the brother that liked to violently shove sharp objects down some fellow pet's throats in an effort to make them be quiet. But that was how it was on this charming afternoon in the park, soon after the sister's friend, who we shall now know as Abigail, declared that today should be a day where every pet in their right mind would go on a small, localized Mr. Wilson hunt. (Trei, the fellox brother, coughed suggestively at this wild statement, but the small oddball fenling remained unfazed.)
A small, timid arkuhna stepped cautiously into the grass, her paintbrush held in a small yet flexible wrist strap. Her pelt was splashed with an uneven spectrum of colours, almost matching the palette of her foster brother, whom came dawdling in afterwards, a prismatic fenling trotting carelessly behind him. The arkuhna looked behind her and gave a nervous smile at the pair that had just came unto the scene, then looked even beyond that, in front of her, near the centre, was a fairly miniature hollowheart and another kuhna, talking to each other in a seemingly happy mood.
Krathvien, as we shall now know the petite arkuhna, turned around and shakily greeted her brother and friend. "H-h-hello, grote b-b-broer, Abby..."
"Grow a freaking backbone."Snapped the fellox, in his usual scrumdiddlyumpicous mood, also along with his usual greeting.
"Oh shush, you."Relayed Abigail.
"Excuse me? I don't see anyone else around here."He said, obviously ignoring his younger sister.
"I said 'shush'. To 'you'. Are 'you' too thick-skulled too get that?"
Just as a plain argument was about to break out between the two prismatic animals, the arkuhna stepped in, thankful for the previous idea of a pigeon hunt.
"Mister Wilsons? R-r-remember?"
"Shut up, Kray."
"That's exactly what I said to you, moron."
"Oh yeah? Dipshunt."
The fenling proceeded to attack the heels of the fellox profusely, and all in the moment, the arkuhna separated herself away and wandered from the two pets.
That is why she did not, not, not, like saturdays. Those were the days everything went absolutely wrong.
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