Ruieze Fields

Open fields and soft grass...
Ruieze stretches far in the midlands of Moladion, laced with streams that feed into Diveen and out of Asteraia at times. The fields are vast, filled with wildflowers and tall, soft grass; trees are sparse, as are rocks, but one can find small shrubs to hide amongst, and the grass itself. To the south of the fields, a Ruieze River widens, and the ground becomes sandy. There is a small, grassy island that can be reached from the banks, with water-birds often congregating on the island rather than the riverbanks.

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don't let the wolf into your bed
IP: 69.145.19.234

Sen
don't let the wolf into your bed

Starving will do many things to a wolf. Impair judgement, thoughts, memories- anything at all, really. And on this day, the Medicine Wolf of Taviora was simply ravenous. Months had passed and he continued to dwindle and go downhill, hardly eating, hardly taking care of himself. Always taking care of the wolves of Taviora, but as far as his own self was concerned, Sen did not care. But this day drove him to the river, his washed out golden creme paws drawing him toward the delectable scent of rotting and putrid meat. Dull, insane violet irises pause on the fourm of a scraggy pale wolf, and, for a short moment, it is as if he's staring in a mirror. So haggard and deranged is the wolf that he could have once been white, or he could have been the washed out golden that Sen himself sports. Perhaps, even, it is Sen and the Fates are playing but a cruel trick on him. Narrowing his eyes upon the apparent apparition, he tenses for but a moment before he lunges. It seems that at the same moment, his reflection went for another wolf but his canines find purchase in Sen's own flesh. The pain there erupts and ignites his senses, but the only reaction he gives is heavy and guttural snarling and the act of trying to dig his own teeth into the neck of his former self. Or perhaps future self, he did not know, nor did he particularly care.

But once again, the scent of the meat has him distracted and just as quickly as it happened he is drawing away from his other self, noticing then the pale, void less eyes that stare into his own which have him distracted from his.. distraction. He stares at the wolf, wondering what sort of ghost or phantom he has come across today, and the creme and washed out golden fur of his hackles raise and threaten this other. Who is he to take what is not his, when it is not his? The gathering of wolves has not gone unnoticed by him, but, they have gone ignored. Even the familiar fourms of his son and daughter do nothing to bring him out of his mindset, for truly, Sen is too far gone to even care at this point. Let those unknowing and naive learn that when you cut off a wolf's head, they still have the power to bite.

html by dante!


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