a thousand times I tempted fate;
The warmth he finds within himself as he lay curled along the ledge is unexpected, yet not. He knows he is alive and well but it had been so many years since he had felt this. This connection to himself that he was living. Those years after Orra's death was not living, those were death. Cold and brutal. Uncaring and guiltless. It was as if he too had died that day. And so he feels. Feels his own warmth as he thinks of her and all she had done for him. Mourning and remembering. Hoping that in place high in the heavens that she was looking down on him with love, for he was trying for her and himself. Happiness, whatever that was for him. He wanted it. Now if only he knew where to find it and how to get it then perhaps this life would become more clearer, until then he rediscovering how to live without the need for hate and blood.
He isn't sure how long he lays upon the stone ledge, time seems unimportant at the time. But what he does know is that he is no longer alone within the fortress. Ears flicker at the scrape of nails alone the floor, the scent that seems to grow stronger with each breath. But he does not move, does not look. Unsure if even whoever was coming would see him. That is until a voice breaks the silence and seems to echo within the caves. For but a breath he waits, before he moves. The chill of the air as his nose leaves the warmth of his tail seems nothing to the scarred remnants of his face. As his head lingers over the ledge and orange eyes spy the white male looking at him. For a moment he see's someone else entirely, although the color is right the eyes are not and he cannot hold the heavy sigh that escapes. "It is." His gruff voice agrees. A gentle tone despite the abrasive voice. As he moves to stand, and make his way down the opposing stone steps.
It takes a moment, for this as far more difficult than going up. Perhaps it is the height, the fall would surely bruise not only his pride but also his bum. Then he is there, standing before the white male as he watches curiously. This is the first male he has met here, though not that it mattered he would say. But perhaps it the lack of shyness that normally followed around the females that has him puzzled, as brows furrow slightly before he speaks yet again. "I'm Jericho, you are?" A sway of his tail giving away his harmless greeting, for he did not want any trouble this eve with the way his mind seems so stuck in the past.
The silence is calm, unlike the times when he had first met Viora, Fjallraven, and Daenerys. There is no bumbling feet or wayward tongue just a sense of ease. As he moves to sit upon the stone floor. Orange eyes lingering around him and upon the male. Wondering if this would turn out far better than his last encounter with a male. For the day he left has been the last time he had been around the same gender, only to have them laying at his feet in their blood and of the females. As he speaks as if to distract his dark thoughts. "With winter coming, it won't be much longer to enjoy the stars." The choked chuckle he gives sounds more like a wet hacking sound, as he feels the first brush of warmth along his cheeks as he clears his throat as if to cover up the sound. "Did you come to see them too?" He questions, leaning into the light of the moon as scarred face waits for his reply.
Jericho. six - no mate - no imprint - nowhere |