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The dirty floorboards creak under Beau’s feet as she pads down the hall. Everything in this apartment is musty or stained; Jester likes to call it ‘well loved’. Beau feels the smell fill her lungs as she takes some steadying breaths.
“Jesterrrrr,” she calls out as she massages the space at the base of her neck, “there’s nothing in the fridge, can you come with me to the st-”Rounding the corner into the living room, Beau’s vision is suddenly dominated by a pair of eyes, one electric purple, the other emerald green.
Sitting on Jester and her’s ‘found-on-the-side-of-the-road, this-definitely-doesn’t-have-woodworms-couch’ is the immense form of Yasha.
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Slice of life, but Beau is pining and her life is a mess. She needs a certain big, tall lady to give her attention, though she won't admit it.
