Thistle

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Generation 2 Is it so far from madness to wisdom? Congratulations on adopting a descendant of the Court of Thorns! Borne of the mad Queen of the Court of Thorns, Queen Guinevere's descendants fill her court to vie for her favour and flaunt their rightful place in her lineage. The Thornlings are well known for their vanity and pride, and to end up on their bad side is to end up in pieces. If you'd like to know more about The Court of Thorns Lineage Project, just click the button!

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She sits at her father's side as he writes his wings flicked around as he tells her his story. She can’t help but chirp in with her own replies and ideas. Together they spin a tail of lies and glitter that seemed to shimmer like fool’s gold. She clutched the old parchment in her small claws and drew the characters as she imagined them. Her father pulls her closer and waves a claw around and praises her for her skills.

They sit together for hours only her mother could drag the pair away from their scrolls and parchment. Her claws were stained with ink just like her dads, her purples were more muted then her dads but she matched him in every other way. She knew deep inside that she was her fathers favorite child. But could she keep that favor or would she lose it to someone else? Her mother highly doubts it and her father tells anyone who will listen about her and show off her art.

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Looks good in Lavender Carousel Fancy

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Years later ~

Thistle sat back on her haunches and huffed.

This isn't going the way I want it to.

She glared at the papers strewn about on her desk. Muttering as she snatched them up and tore them, then tossed the crumpled and ripped mess of parchment into the hearth. She put another log onto the fire then plopped down onto a nest of pillows and blankets. Thistle stared at the fireplace, watching the dancing flames as she sipped from a sizeable mug of hot chocolate. Her paws left ink smudges on just about everything, and she frowned as she realized her glasses bore the writers mark.

I could really use your help on this one dad.

She sighed dramatically, and snuggled farther under the heavy blanket. It's weight comforted her, like being wrapped up in the arms of her father again. Listening to his stories, sharing their ideas, and her attempts at drawing the characters that flew about in her imagination. So many hours had been spent happily in his study. She glanced at the the bookshelf where she knew her sketchbooks lay, unused for who knows how many moons.