iF THEY DON’T PUT ME AWAY iT’LL BE A MiRACLE
Makism can’t believe it… it’s his now. Quinn had given it to him. It would continue to be his… and he likes that idea. It’s a damn good idea, yes. Put the shadow in charge, and he’d take it far. He’d take it far, he’d take it and run, he’d soak in the limelight… lemonlight? Something like that, the phrase was lost to him now. Everything made sense. He was going to take control and he was going to get Glorall back on its feet. That was what made sense. It empowered the slender creature, and sent him out on a path that could go anywhere, so long as it was up.

Up. That’s where he was going. Makism had found himself a lovely rock, and he was going to sit upon it. The thing was only about as high as his head, and with a great leap he was upon it. It would give him a buffer zone in case things got weird. Things… could get weird, actually, yeah. That was always a distinct possibility. The man was also mildly self-conscious—the whole being short thing wasn’t really the greatest when you were sitting in front of a group you’d just taken over. Makism would feel safer with Quinn at his side too, but he should only have to wait moments for that.

He shifts upon his rock, sitting to his slender haunches. Makism’s call is enough to echo around Glorall. His location was strikingly central, so it was his hope that everyone would show up. A sigh in his lungs, the creature can’t do anything more than wait for the moment. Winter had come to them on silent feet, and they’d need to hunt soon. It wouldn’t be a big deal, for their numbers were fairly decent. The days were still warm, at least, and the shadow could hang upon his rock in the sun.

MAKiSM!
male | eight | gypsy | father of Sabriel, Dimitri, and Delta (adopted) | *Quinn’s