At the densest section of the forest, there is a brief clearing where a steady flow of water streams down the slippery stone staircase. The water here is cool and refreshing.
Staircase Falls has been rumoured to be the place where reality is met by magic; where peaceful spirits dwell. They are rumoured to have healing powers that are used to help the desperately hurt, though no one has experienced this, except for, perhaps, Kaive.
I follow blindly right behind you and I still get lost IP: 74.141.235.32 Posted on September 22, 2017 at 05:30:57 PM by Quiet
Space is something he often kept from other wolves, because he does not know if anyone could handle the fact he chose to remain mute, and so he stays away from the presences of other wolves. His own presence has become a kind of home, and even if he has no real home he does not feel anxious to get one. The teenage timber wolf doesn't really have any good memories of being apart of a pack anyways, just constant infighting and bloodshed, and the hollow look in strangers as they died. While he had refused to be part of the killing of others, being captured by that pack and the trauma from it is largely why he chooses not to speak. He finds a spot of dry ground in all this murk, and looks around him with his ears low. All around him was marshes, messy stuff that sticks to everything. It wasn't the most pleasant terrain to travel through, but it was better than anything soaked through with blood. Ears twitching at a sound, he turns and bounds forward, bounding through the murk and grime, before his paws clap down on a squirrel, his tail flagging high in the air, as he has finally caught some measure of food.
He feels his paws start to sink into the murk, and he pulls himself backwards and free. Dipping his muzzle low to retrieve his squirrel, he realized a little late that this place was not as solid as he had thought for it. Even at this slight pause he began to sink into the murk again, so he turns on his heels and returns to the solid ground he had found earlier. Dropping his prey he looks around him once more, seeing no signs of other life. Lowering his muzzle to his risky catch, he begins to eat the first meal he had for a few days. Once there was little left of his kill, he lowers himself to the ground and tucks his tail over his paws. Lavender eyes that almost seem a ghostly white keep watch of the murk around him, for any movements or shifting colors. He didn't really think that he would meet someone here, because this does not seem like prime ground to go and explore. They might prefer safer grounds, cleaner grounds. The young scarred male began to lull into a secure feeling doze, a gentle calmness seeming to seep deep into his core, to pull him into slumber's deep embrace. But in lands so unfamiliar and foreign, he was not able to sleep deeply. Their faces had begun to fade from his mind and memory, their whispers now inaudible in his dreams.
One ear catches a sound and moves very slightly, hearing the murk sucking at paws. His scarred jaws lifts up with his almost white eyes still partially closed, as he is still bogged down by sleepiness, though if they want to talk to him they would have come to the wrong wolf. Once his lavender eyes are open fully, he rises to his paws next. If someone were to come aggressive he would turn to flight, not because he was weak or frightened, but because he would prefer not to shed blood after all that he witnessed in his young life. Everyone is allowed their choices, and this was one he would keep. Replies:
