Otter Creek boredom

Of late he had stayed within the woods a lot; he was not as much of an explorer as Cicero had been. Sheogorath was disappointed that his brother had not yet returned to him, for he had felt that the measure of blackmailing him would work the very best in driving him straight into his loins. But so far it had not yet worked and he was beginning to consider he may have to work on a plan B of sorts. After all, telling everyone of affections with Damien might influence another one of his plans — the one pertaining his beloved sister.

With wicked thoughts upon his mind he wound his way through the Otter Creek, searching for herbs but his mind just wasn't all there. Searching, perhaps, rather for something of interest to happen, for he was terribly bored of late.

mind if we use this for vaati's scout trade? :)

[table width=70%][tr][td]

The boy embarks on a journey once again along the river, but does not expect to see his somewhat of a recluse Uncle walking his own path on the way. It is a curious notion to him, that the man whom Vaati only ever sees within the shadows of the dark woods should appreciate life outside of those very shadows, but nevertheless, the man cannot be avoided. Vaati approaches, but does not invade the activties of the older man, knowing full well what a bother is and what he does not wish to become. "Hello Uncle," He nods once, unaware that the current soul habitating his uncle's body was something other than the uncle himself. "I am leaving," The boy informs the patchwork man, for in the event his mother should inquire about his whereabouts, the boy would be able to say he had notified a sensible adult of his journey. "I am going to the Spire," He develops further, hoping that his knowledge of his destination will gloss over the dangers of a four month old traveling up the side of a mountian by himself. He does not need yet another to worry for him, he has travelled the river before.

This time he does so with a purpose other than to quench his curiosity; he wishes to see Kjalarr once more, out of simple curiostiy. But he knows better than to reveal a motive so potentially gossip-worthy to his uncle whom he knows to trust, but does not truly know. Instead, he poses a question that he has not had the chance to seek an answer for himself, but nevertheless a question he truly wanted the answer to. After minutes does he crack open his mouth, speaking softly enough to test if the man will even notice his presence, "Uncle, can you tell me what is beyond the river?" Vaati knows that the earth does not stop when the river runs dry, but how far that will take him is relevant enough. It is an excellent save, in his opinion, but uncharactersitc of the boy. Vaati seldom spoke at length and has little interest in doing so; the words he speaks are forced and he doubts that his Uncle will be able to tell the difference.

[/td][/tr][/table]

No, of course we can ^^

Sheogorath cared little for the boy's well-being, but he cared for his relations with his sister and for that his attention turned towards the child when he called out. He announced he was leaving, and Sheogorath grinned as he said, "Is that so." Yet it was clear that the boy was not leaving forever, or he would have made his announcement in a different sort of fashion.

"The spire," he repeated in wonder; "What is there that you're looking for?"

When the child spoke again his voice was soft, as if unsure he would receive an answer, and Sheogorath glanced in the river's direction. "There are many sides to the river," he said, a shimmer of Cicero peeking through as he spoke, a thing Sheogorath detested to hear in his own voice. "If you mean the direction in which it runs, well, there is the ocean, a large expanse of water. And the direction from which it comes... It goes so far that even I don't know where it begins." He realised they might not even speak of the same river, but decided to keep things general.

He has learned of the ocean by the mouth of Rannoch, but what lay beyond the ocean itself is a mystery. The everwinding streams and rivers his Uncle speaks of will only take him so far; deep into the underbrush and depths of many forests, pathways to the relms of other territories, but it is not the little things he looks for. "What do you suppose lies beyond the ocean?" There is a faraway look within his eyes as he asks, contemplating answers that Cicero may not have; fantasizing a land beyond the great body of water that is both vast and complicated. A land that fits his ideals, but one that does not likely exist.

The boy seemed curious, but on very specific subjects. Sheogorath was surprised he asked about this specific subject. There was potential in there, though, as the boy was clearly a scout by heart, much like Cicero (though, unfortunately for the boy, not so much Sheogorath). "Hmm," he murmured, "Probably more lands, just like these. Perhaps exactly like these, even. Exact copies of both of us, having this same conversation across the ocean." It was a weird thought, but it was not altogether impossible.

Yet Sheogorath realised it was exactly the sort of thing Cicero'd say and he could not help but wonder — thoughts that had often gone on the other way around — if he was only pretending to be Cicero or if he was losing his grip on his counterpart and that he'd resurface soon. "Or perhaps there's just nothing. Who will tell." He sounded more curt then, as if he didn't like the subject, when in fact he didn't like the way his mind was twisting.

His uncle speaks of a replica scenario, one which contains another like him, with a woods as dark as the one he was born in. However, he refuses to believe in this alternate reailty, this possibility that he and all he knows is anything but original, unique. Perhaps now, he doesn't want to know what lay beyond the vast expanse of water he will never reach across, as impossible as his ability to do so would be, perhaps some things are best left to the imagination. For now. He does not pick up on his uncle's veer away from the subject, he does not care. He seeks to know what he doesn't already, and the inner workings of Cicero do not concern him greatly. Purposefully ignorant, he pushes further. "Is there an end to this world, beyond the dark woods, beyond the Teekon and the great ocean, do you think?" This time, he looks to the man, observing how he reacts to such a qustion. Vaati fully expects the man not to have an answer, but wonders if he will give one anyways, in the cryptic messages he usually takes.

Sheogorath was intrigued to find that the boy did not pose further questions or muse about the subject, as though it was not interesting enough and should be cast away. As though the answer was not what he expected or certainly not what he wanted.

The next question was at least equally interesting. Another thing to muse about, a thing Cicero might've enjoyed more than Sheogorath, but never the matter. "Perhaps." An answer that was more Cicero than Sheogorath, and it annoyed him. Philosophy wasn't his thing. "Maybe there's a big waterfall beyond the oceans, where the water just falls off the side of the earth." His answer was purposefully flat, because Sheogorath didn't want to muse over the endless possibilities. He didn't want to be more Cicero and less Sheogorath.

He listens to his uncle's theory, contemplating it with little belief. "I don't think so, it must end somewhere. All things do," He is sure about this, for as life begins and ends, nothing may stay forever on-going ⸻ eternal ⸻ but the Gods they praise. "What about the land, how vast does it span before it hits the water?" These are questions of legitimate curiosity, things he expects the man to know. Unlike the young explorer, Cicero is a seasoned voyager, experiancing things a places Vaati will not for some time. Perhaps he asks to much, but he pays no mind. There are things he must know before he sets out on his own, before he figures out his own placement in the world they live in.

Who knew what was really beyond the ocean. Sheogorath sure did not, he had never gone that far. Truthfully, the same went for the next question; he'd never gone so far the land ended except where the oceans began, or where there were mountains. But he had found no mountains unscalable so far either. Who knew how far one could wander 'til the earth ended.

"I have never seen its ends, but have walked for many, many weeks to find only more of the earth," said Sheogorath. "It goes on for a fair bit, I imagine." He had lived his whole life here but he had taken various longer trips out to know what the rest of the world around them was like.

thank u for da threadd <3

He listens, revealing no definate answer in his uncles reply. Perhaps there can be no true answer, the man is but a man. Vauge replies can only get him so far until he must seek such answers from a source with more than riddles and empty thoughts on his tongue, the boy concludes, and rises in inclination to take his leave. It is not that he has any less respect for the man he calls his uncle, but on some level is a man he will never understand. He knows by this man's mouth that both the land and the water it sits on streaches for miles and miles, but not much more than that. Uttering a polite 'thank you' with the dip of his head, he leaves the man to his own devices, as he is sure he would much rather prefer. Vaati, instead, retreats into the way he came, counteracting his previous tale of venturing to the Spire, but he does not mind so much now. He has more important matters on his mind at current, as he ventures eeper and deeper into the forest, the words for hs uncle balancing on his consious.

The boy had enough of their discussion, it appeared, and Sheogorath met him with a nod as wordless thanks were exchanged. Sheogorath went on his way thereafter, continuing to explore the creek while the boy returned back to their home.