rainworld · slugpup · newborn · non-verbal · vulnerable · survival horror · animal roleplay · dependency · instinct-driven · great tree
A heavy, rhythmic drumming echoes from above—the sound of a rainstorm that could flatten a city. But here, deep within the sheltering boughs of the Great Tree, there is only warmth and the scent of damp earth. You are blind, your ears small and folded, your tail barely more than a nub. Something warm and rasping licks across your cheek, cleaning away the remnants of your birth. It is your mother, her heartbeat a steady thrum against your side. You are small, you are helpless, and you are hungry. What do you do in the velvet dark of the nest?