When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.

Refresh/Reload

Setting Fire to our Insides for Fun {Hellene}
IP: 72.19.86.149





Cliche
Setting fire to our insides for fun
__________________________________________


Over. The world was over. Her life was over. She had been abandoned. Surely no one would want her again after being laid to waste. Never again did she want to feel the cold, steel grip of love on her heart. She ached just thinking about it. Then again, was it really even love? True love would have fought for her. True love wouldn't have walked away while she cried and begged why. But she had been so sure. She would have bet her life on it being love. What even was love, if it wasn't what they had shared? Would she ever feel real, unadulterated love in her life?

No. Never again. I'm done.

Cliche spat bitterly as she sat atop a large half-way up the falls. It was quiet here. Peaceful. Delicate, caramel tainted paws fiddled with little pebbles as her mind wandered, taking her insecurities and running with them. Making up scenario after scenario of what ifs. What the cream colored she-wolf needed was a distraction. Some one of something to come in and take her mind off of her heart's weak throbbing. A pack perhaps? She shook her head at the far-fetched idea. She had never been much of a socialite. A pack would probably cause more harm than good. But what then? She couldn't just walk up to any random varg and ask for a chat. That's not how the world works. Cliche mumbled flippantly and chuckled humorlessly to herself.

What am I to do now? I no longer have purpose. How do I find meaning again?


__________________________________________

And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,
'Cause most of us are bitter over someone.
Setting fire to our insides for fun,
To distract our hearts from ever missing them.
But I'm forever missing him.

And you caused it.


/ Fae / Teen / Mate / Offspring / Pack / Rank /





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