Catastrophix will no longer be my main TEF community account on this forum or the other, as it makes more sense to me to stick with the DA screen name I've had since forever. I've deleted the art posts here I've made under that name (they'll be reposted tomorrow under this one), though I'm leaving the screenshot posts since they were his adventures in the forest anyway. I'll still be keeping the deer though, unless catastrophix on DA wants him for some reason (I've sent a note).

Other than that, things here will be staying pretty ... normal ...

Okay, rant-vent-thing below, I'm sorry, but I REALLY need to get some stuff off of my chest.
(watch out for language) (will be erased/updated with every new problem, so older comments below may not be related to the current subject)

[=#CD96CD] In the snow, she remembers Toukan's leg hurts very much. In the snow, she knows everything is bright and sparkly and moving everywhere, reflecting in her pupils like little stars and drifting down like volcanic ash or the prettiest red leaves or sunlight falling in little motes and she gets to snuggle, even with strangers, if she shakes in the cold. Hyacinth does not know how to feel about snow.
It is a new year, a new year, and an old Hyacinth; still scared by a little fawn's bleating, still darting behind him like a shield, still distracted by something on the edge of her mind and the falling of snow. Same old Hyacinth. She sits with Toukan and a friend whose name escapes, framed and surrounded by sad little graves. Hyacinth wonders what it is like to be dead. She thinks it is cold, but is it colder than snow? She feels it is dark. But she has been cold and dark before, and has not been dead. She has wished to be dead, when she was cold and dark, but she was not dead. Like how deer are animals and run but not all animals run. Yes. Kaoori woke up, while there was all that spinning and imagining the dark. She likes Kaoori, who is little and quiet. She considers trying being little, on a permanent basis. It could be fun.
Hyacinth sleeps, and tries very hard not to dream. It does not work, and she is back in the room, staring at the stone. Her arm hurts, but that is silly because it hasn't grown back yet. It is over there, on his desk. Hello, arm. It is a dream, so the arm waves. She knows it is a dream, then: all the times he took her apart, they never waved. She wished they would have: it was very lonely in the room. It is only him and bits of her. She tries to dream herself away, but the door is opening and he is coming down the stairs and something is in his hand, and sparks fall onto the ground all around it, lighting up the staircase slowly...
And she is awake and a fawn gives her flowers.