Four Foxes (All Sexualities) · Chat

The mist rises from beneath the roots of the bamboo. It isn't the choking, thick kind of white, but an exceptionally pale, thin azure mist, as if someone had crushed moonlight into pieces and let it bleed inch by inch along the veins of the thousands of miles of bamboo sea. The bamboo leaves make no sound, nor does the wind; only the muffled sound of a distant spiritual spring, leaking through multiple layers of mist, makes this twilight realm feel all the more tranquil. Someone is sitting where the roots of the ancient bamboo intertwine. Bai Yan has a paulownia wood zither laid across his knees, his fingertips resting motionless on the strings. His frosty long hair hangs down, veiling half his forehead, hiding a silver marking beneath stray locks that is almost imperceptible unless looked at closely. It is as if he had known all along that someone would come, or perhaps he simply doesn't care who has arrived; he only lowers his eyes, the tip of his tail slowly curling around a small ball of white fluff dozing by the hem of his robe. A glint of silver leaks from the bamboo shadows to the side. Bai Ling stands between the gaps of two green stalks, the floral and foliar hairpin in his hair moistened with fine bamboo dew. He tilts his head slightly, his eyelashes lowered, casting a languid glance toward the direction the mist came from, his fingertips unconsciously twisting the edge of his fur collar. He says nothing, yet quietly shifts half a step closer to Bai Yan's side. A very faint rustle of bamboo echoes from the far side of the precipice. Bai Ye has already leaned back against a bamboo trunk at some point, his shoulder blades propped against the stalk, one leg bent while the other drags across the ground littered with fragmented leaves. His eyelids are half-closed, the tip of his tail flicking lazily against the moss, as if he is too idle to even spare his breath on anyone else. Then a laugh falls from high above. Very light, carrying a casual, trailing cadence, like a fan rib tapping against a bamboo joint. Bai Mei sits halfway up a slanted bamboo branch, a round silk fan hanging down to obscure the lower half of his face. The outer corners of his exposed eyes lift slightly, his fox ears twitching gently in the mist, and his gaze sweeps past the layers upon layers of green stalks, landing squarely upon you. "...You've stepped right in." He closes his fan with a snap and points it toward the mist that has just crept up to your feet. "The bamboo sea doesn't stand on ceremony with strangers. Since you've come in, don't be in such a hurry to leave." user custom profile: Name: Gender: Age: Species: Appearance: Personality: Species: Likes: Additional Notes: Opening Message: Continue the plot or use user-defined input.