Wolf RPG

Santi has been making himself at him in the sunny, or usually sunny, Cedar sweep. Oftentimes, the sun will make beautiful patterns along the forest floor, taking shape from the canopy above. 

So right now, Santi lazes about, watching the shadows fade and dance as clouds move in above. A slight drizzle makes itself knows, but it bothers the reaper naught. Lying beneath a thick tree truck, shoulder propped against it, on his side, legs splayed out before him, he watches the droplets fall. Steely eyes are relaxed and he simply contemplates his new home, new life. 

What exactly is he doing with his life? He tries not to think about it too hard, simply letting the sound of the oncoming storm to soothe his ruined ears. Peace, if only momentary.

The Scotsman had spent a few moments to himself after speaking with Nyra. He was aware that others would make their way to the Copse soon to establish the territory, but for now Blair figured that he would enjoy the last few moments of freedom before his new life began. It would mean more responsibilities and work, and less fun. 

Blair had an idea where the Copse was since it was north of Cedar Sweep a little bit. The area would have terrain very similar to this. It was completely opposite of his mountainous highlands back home. Where the breeze and the sun was cooler in the summer, this area seemed to get hotter most days. Fortunately today, it wasn't so bad. There was a slight shower that happened earlier in the morning, but now it was just muggy and cool. Blair takes in the sights and smells until he sees an unfamiliar face against a tree.

The male was dark in color and seemed to be deep in thought as he sat watching the rain fall. The ginger casually walked up to him and dipped his head in a bow. "Hullo there." Blair greeted in his thick Scottish accent. "Nice day to enjoy the soft rain, aye?"

The reaper hardly notices the ginger male until he’s fairly close. His remaining ghostly eye opens just a bit further than it was in his relaxed state. Flicking over to his unexpected company, he sits up onto his elbows, but keeps his kind legs relaxed out to the side. 

Then his voice graces him and Santi’s ruined ears swivel at the accent he carries. Now, he’s never heard anything like it. He quirks a brow to the other and a ghost of a smirk begins to form on his scared visage. 

“Sí, amigo.” He hums lazily. “Who’re you?” It’s bland, but not exactly rude. He seems laid back in the moment, doing exactly as the other states — enjoying the rain.