a thousand times I tempted fate;
For some reason the Grotto calls to him, pulls him like a puppet on a string. He isn't sure why this is, perhaps it is the reason that he had met Fjall here, his friend. Friend. He still cannot believe that he, once know for his violence and hostility in turn had a friend. Back home they would laugh at him now, mock the weaker version he has become. But it is the fleeting whispers of Orra in his ear that drive him to find that happiness she so wanted him to have, to become a better soul as well. He is learning, much slower than he would like but never the less learning how to not face every thing as a need for blood. It is always there, tickling the back of his mind to throw away this new caring nature and just embrace what he knows. For all that life gave him was countless scars and the bodies of so many, he hopes this one will give him so much in return. To him the Grotto symbolizes the hope for a better future since it had already given him something before, perhaps it could do it again?
His nails scratch along the rock surface, killing the silence that once surrounded the stone fortress. The light of the moon shining through the hole within it's roof as it illuminates the entrance in a mysterious curiosity. As his fur of black and white steps within the light, there is a teasing warmth. A soothing calm as he pauses to enjoy the feeling. After the time he had spent with Daenerys enjoying the rain. Watching he just feel the moment has in turn caused him to feel as well. Like now, the way the moonlight dances upon his back as he just feels. He had only ever felt the teeth of others, relished in it. Provoked so that he could have it, and now, well now he is coming find there are far better things to feel than violence.
Eyes blink lazily as they reopen to face the surrounding darkness away from the light, it is almost prophetic to him. Light and Dark. And the way his situation has changed. A step and then another until he moves away from the light and into the dark of the Grotto, scenting the air yet only obtaining the stale scents of those who have come and gone. Eyes searching the shadows until a protrusion along the side catches in his sight and he stops, breathing silently in the dark. Eyes searching up as he spies a ledge from the natural staircase. As he moves to make his way up them. The steps are cold to the touch and barely enough room to allow his feet to hold. But after much flailing he finds himself upon the smooth surface of the ledge as he overlooks the Grotto from this view.
Since his arrival he has not spent much time to himself and so in this moment he needs this, needs this time away from everything that is changing as he curls within himself. His nose buried beneath the thick plush of his tail. As he lets his mind settle and calm, or at least try too. For some reason the memory of Viora is dancing in his head. The female who also lost her mother to the likes of a mad one. This in turn makes him think of Orra and how she is not here with him in his new life. As his scarred face seems to bunch up and his eyes seem to moisten, the pain of her death still so fresh in his heart. As he silently mourns her still yet, the breeze of the autumn stirring the scruff of his white neck that is in plain sight from the light of the moon. As the silence weighs heavy on the scarred soul and body that is his own.
Jericho. six - no mate - no imprint - nowhere |