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Ruieze Fields
Open fields and soft grass...
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| sorcier
four ❧ no heart ❧ lost soul ❧ taviora |
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Her words after his own made him feel a bit uneasy, like an itch deep within his thick pelt that could not be shook no matter how many times his flanks twitched or shuddered—but this discomfort is not to be interpreted foully. Surely when the time would come, he could rely on her to help him find his way back to Taviora, but that wasn’t quite like the character of Sorcier. He surely would not ask for another wolf to accompany him in his wonderings back to his home, especially from a female; especially from a younger female. Again, not to be taken disheartedly, but if anything ill were to happen to her on her return back to her own homeland, Sorcier would not be able to handle such weight of guilt. Besides, the male had simply just arrived and he had no intentions on leaving yet. Yes, he could have been very easily content with now knowing her name, with having the courage to speak to this, no longer strange, wolf—but if time would allow such things, he would continue to bask himself in such attendance. Knowing that the likelihood of another wolf looking for him, or needing him for that matter, was rather slim since his presence was hardly acknowledged yet and this gave the male all the more reasoning to stay. When Ambrosia spoke of Diveen, the pieces of his brain started to be able to put things together. The color of her pelt was something unlike he had ever seen before so it only made sense that she would reside amongst the Angels. There was a streak of jealousy that stuck to him now just from the fact that she was more than aware of those in her bloodline, whereas Sorcier hadn’t the slightest clue because for the last that he knew—he was the last. Though, these thoughts would have been quickly discarded to his “time to move on” pile so that he could continue to enjoy his time with her, except these thoughts no longer seemed to burden him anymore. Simply they passed, just as the female began to speak of the ethereal force of Fate. Time and Fate were essences that Sorcier had bound himself to, allowing these to chart his course so that he could make the most of the path that he traveled. Whatever he stumbled across was simply Fate, for they would cross at the same exact time in the same exact place—so when Ambrosia mentioned how Fate would have its mysterious ways of winding souls together, and that all those hold purpose. These were words that Sorcier had held on to throughout all of these years, and even though they were not preciously verbatim, it became even more of an assurance now that they were ringing like bells, like a singsong, from the wolf that was lying here with him in this very moment. Of course she was right that it was entirely up to us to seek out what that purpose was at the end of the road, and with how pleasantly things were taking now, Sorcier knew that he was ultimately all for the idea of figuring out these results. At that thought, he turned his sights back over to her and wasn’t expecting to see her returning gaze. Such a gaze could quickly put the fire out in his eyes if she so would have wished, but again, it could do quite the opposite in the very same second. The gems of her eyes seemed to behave in the same manner that his ember ones did—and how ironic it was that he would compare her eyes to the contents of treasure. “For the first time, I believe Fate has chosen a path that I can already see the end to.. though I would take all the time that I could be given to tread down this surreal path.. so what do you say?” With a quick nod of his head, giving queue to the island that lay swallowed in the depths of the lake, the wolf could feel his blackened lips expose his toothy smile. “Shall we tread together?” |
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