Aplos Riverside

Moladion’s powerful, winding river...
Aplos River is a broad, slow-moving river originating from somewhere beneath the mountains of Spirane and feeding Iromar’s moors in the south. The northern parts of the river are known for their strong currents, with the water becoming slow moving in the south. The riverbanks vary along its course, ranging from soft hummock grasses to small groups of pine, and sometimes nothing but pebbles and sand. Crossing can be difficult at times, but it can be swam or bridged by fallen trees or boulders alike.

Return to Lunar Children

the lonely one refuses to die
IP: 71.192.221.44
Posted on September 9, 2013 at 08:13:36 PM by Wren

Beschea
Wren knows how to have an adventure. He’d been to the realm of angels, he’d been to Diveen. He’d made friends with a nice girl, one that was friendly and didn’t mind that he couldn’t speak. That was nice. It was nice that she understood, at least in a way. She called him Bird, and that was close enough. He liked being around her. She made things… more comfortable. He’d met Bark too, the one that didn’t talk either. That helped. It helped when he didn’t have to follow along with the language thing, the plan. He didn’t really understand the plan for the ones like Bark… he’d have learned to talk if he could. Bark just didn’t know. It was bizarre, but he liked it.

There wasn’t much that Wren disliked. He was gentle and quiet… that was funny. He didn’t have an option that wasn’t quiet. At least he was lively. The creature had a nose for adventure, and that was neat enough. He liked his adventures, even if they were always on his own. He could adventure on his own for as long as he liked. That was… nice. Tail swishing he made his way overland. Winter wasn’t really his favorite, but he knew at the end he’d officially be a yearling. That was cool enough… he could do that. Wren was more than okay with being a yearling.

So he made his way to the riverside. He liked the sound that the water made when it ran, even if it was under a fine layer of ice. Wren follows the river, tail wagging, eyes bright. Moving brightly across the ground. It’s a stretching in his bones, the muscles, the… well, that’s something he can deal with. Bright, tail wagging, embracing the world around him. There’s a pale girl by the riverside, one that draws Wren in as he plays. Everything was muddy and he was sinking in as he moves, but he can’t help that. There’s a struggle, but he makes it. He makes his way over to the riverside, and over to the girl. That’s what he can do for now.
wren. swallowbanexcalista. zero. mute.



Replies:

Post a reply:
Name:
Subject:
Message:
Password To Edit Post:







<-- -->