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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Tyrion

Tyrion looked the direction she indicated, to the west, making a mental note for himself to examine the regions near this Aplos River. He could already feel the small headache coming on, but it was nothing to fret over for the time being. Instead, his mismatched gaze went back to Nymeria. He was in a new region after all, best learn what he can of it if he intended to survive. The golden male's maw maintain his smile, though she was by far not that interested in him. Why should she be? Either there was someone else in her life, or she was put off by his diminutive stature. He inclined his head in a respectful manner, "Quite a pleasure, I'm certain, lady Nymeria," his words rolled out smoothly, a proper greeting for a lady, after all.

"I am Tyrion," the dwarfish wolf offered in turn. "Quite far, as a matter of fact," Tyrion indicated to her question of his travel. If only she knew how far... Hundreds of thousands of miles. It was certainly a miracle he'd made it this far. But then again, the male usually did have a way with words, gaining assistance as necessary on his travels away from the realm of his birth. Not that it truly bothered him. Maybe he'd go back one day? The tiny brute scrunched up his nose slightly at the thought before bringing himself to the conversation at hand. "Moladin," he echoed curiously. Tyrion mused over the notion of being the first ever wine maker in this lands. But he was not a crafts-wolf, the blond male was more the diplomatic sort. Was... he mentally scolded himself, but it did not appear on his features his frustrations at his past.

"Tell me more of Moladin," Tyrion stated as much as inquired. He would need to know more of these lands if he were to survive in them. The small male stepped towards Nymeria, placing himself beside her. Always looking up, though he refrained from letting it bother him now, since it never really did bother him before. "Perhaps we might walk and talk?" he suggested. His paw wasn't giving him trouble at this point, so it seemed more fitting to be on the move and get a better survey of lands as well.

male - sixteen - imprintless - loveless - loner
html © riley Picture By Castle


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