<font color=#a1987a><font color=white></font> How am I still alive?</font>

The dreams were getting worse. It wasn't that they were showing him anything usefull, they just kept showing him the same thing over and over again, to the point that he was getting mangey again. His coat a normal plushy white, pristine some would say, hadn't been washed in months since he'd even arrived here. The odd cleaning to get rid of a matt but that was it. Blood from past hunts and the mud that seemed to infiltrait Iromar clings to him and turns him a yellow brown color from the elbows up, it is just brown from the elbows down. Even his feathers appear dull, three of them cling to his ear as if all hell was trying to steal them away. Each night it was the same thing though. The same vision over and over and over again. Like it was forcing it's self on him. Life has a way of doing that to people Paldor ever since he'd dreamed of those damn puppies he hadn't heard the sweet serinade of the Duchess, only the hoase whispers of Charming had filted into his mind, almost as if they demaned from him what he couldn't give them. Life.

"What do you know of Life, you live in my head. Your not real, you aren't real..." his voice trails off in the end. He knows that they are real, because they speak to him, taunt him with his past. She knows about the dream Pal, she knows all about it "then why doesn't she come and speak with me about them?" because.. she fears... "It wont happen, I can't let it" but you must... this is your life Paldor, as much as you hate it. It's not the end. No, it wasn't the end. That's was what always reminded him that no matter what he did, he wouldn't be free of his bindings. He would be stuck forever. Here. With them. Taunting, teasing, pulling at his mind until all else was flushed from his body and all he could think about was them. Deep within his mind he heard the trailing laughter of the male's voice.

Death is not the end as you so lovingly believe dear friend, death is only the begining of a new life, a new way to distroy those that saught to distroy you. To invade their memories, their dreams, the very existance of life is futile. He has walked... for god only knows how long. He'd thought it would get rid of his thoughts, but it only intensified them, worsened them to no end. Are you happy? the voice is meek, sweet, divine, it holds no malice, no distaste. He stops what he's doing, walking, and looks around as if he would find a body to the voice. But there never is. It's a hope, a dream... lost in the mists of time. "What do you think?" I think your lost... you need to wake up Paldor, sweet darling Paldor. Your dream is over with... with a start he wakes up and finds himself in an entirely different part of the crater. A place he doesn't think he's ever been to before.

Slowly he moves his head, groggy and wondering how he managed to get here. It had all been a dream, but without the usual. Had he fallen asleep here? had he just dropped to the ground and slept? it had been a long time since he had slept good, his legs push out infront of him as his rear end sticks up in the air, stained white tail flicks up and over his back as he stretches out his muscles and bones, his jaw opening wide as a yawn is released from his body. Ears are always working back and forth to see who is where and what they are up to. Many wolves are about him, though few catch his steely gaze, few that is except one. A silver and gold wolf, pale in color... a male, his nose sniffs at the air, not to test it but in detest of it. He is not a fan of work, he would much prefer to sleep away the day here and do nothing, it was in his nature after all wasn't it?

But work is a must if he wanted to stay within Iromar and so he gets up to his full height, not much but a good 38 inches and a lean 100 lbs of him, he was less he figured after not eating for weeks on end. He's not weak, no he's perfectly healthy, the dreams seem to pull the weight off him though and make him appear slimmer and taller than he really is. He stares at this wolf, this male, something about him is familiar, not so much in that Paldor knows him as a friend, but something pulls him. Dreams. Harmful and yet, helpful all at the same time. He is ment to meet this man and thus he begrudges fate and goes in for the conversation killer. Paldor's eyes are not normal, he's probably one of a handful of wolves who's eyes are completly white without pupil's and isn't blind, even though he might look it some times the way his walk is haphazard in that he doesn't care where he walks. "Well then, it seems fate is a very fickle mistress" he says when he gets within a body length or two from the other. He seats himself, those blind-white eyes that see everything and anything just stare at the other male. Creepy no? he doesn't even need to blink as much as other wolves it seems for he doesn't do so now.

"What is your name stranger?" oh aren't you a nice wolf today Paldor? his upper lips tips upwards but it is merly a memory-muscle twitch at the sound of Charming's voice. What's the matter? someone disturbe your beauty sleep his tail flicks quickly and wraps it's self around his front legs, he is dirty, he probably smells and he doesn't give two flying fucks what anyone things. "You may call me Paldor," the magnificent!-ly stupid, your an idiot Paldor, you seriously are Charming mocks him within his head. It annoys him but he's good at hiding it from strangers, only Ruvindra has seen his.... annoyance on more than one occassion.

"talks like this"

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