★ pick someone you want to play with and put it in the subject ★ leave a pic or a prompt or w/e ★ havesomemoreideas;) ★ have fun! ★ fyi "late" doesn't exist. ★ let's go let's do the cute holiday thing
[ Squall reaches up to scratch the chocobo's neck, gloved fingers threading expertly between feathers without bending or pulling. The chocobo leans into the sensation, releasing a softer, far less demanding kweh, and the corner of Squall's lips twitch in a smile. Then he's back to fastening straps and adjusting fabric, making sure that the chocobo's blanket is secure. An open air stall will keep the wind and snow at bay, but when it comes to warmth, the chocobo's primary source will be its own feathers and the thick blanket covering them. Having slept under said blanket himself on more than one occasion, Squall has no doubt that the chocobo will be fine.
[ It's only after he's ensured the chocobo's comfort for the night that Squall looks to his own. An inn — small, but with a crackling fire visible through a window — is what initially drew his attention to this town. And that's his destination as he heads back into the snow, shoulders raised and chin tucked into the fur along his collar to protect his face from flurries. The jingling of his many belts is oddly amplified to his ears, but maybe that's because few others are out crunching through the fresh powder. ]
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iris.... (or anyone really i'm good)
[ Squall reaches up to scratch the chocobo's neck, gloved fingers threading expertly between feathers without bending or pulling. The chocobo leans into the sensation, releasing a softer, far less demanding kweh, and the corner of Squall's lips twitch in a smile. Then he's back to fastening straps and adjusting fabric, making sure that the chocobo's blanket is secure. An open air stall will keep the wind and snow at bay, but when it comes to warmth, the chocobo's primary source will be its own feathers and the thick blanket covering them. Having slept under said blanket himself on more than one occasion, Squall has no doubt that the chocobo will be fine.
[ It's only after he's ensured the chocobo's comfort for the night that Squall looks to his own. An inn — small, but with a crackling fire visible through a window — is what initially drew his attention to this town. And that's his destination as he heads back into the snow, shoulders raised and chin tucked into the fur along his collar to protect his face from flurries. The jingling of his many belts is oddly amplified to his ears, but maybe that's because few others are out crunching through the fresh powder. ]