There's a taste of familiarity in the air as he wandered the empty halls of some abandoned kingdom, the only life now remaining being the willows he weaved between. For a moment he wonders if he's been here before, if his body remembers something his mind could not. Yet no amount of investigation is able to resurface his buried memories and he begins to realize it is not this place that feels familiar, but rather the smell of it that does.

Salt. Sand. Sea.

His attention snaps towards the direction the breeze flows from as a sudden urge to run roots itself in his toes. There was something terrifying about the idea of it - of discovering whatever it was that called to him, and for a moment he doesn't think at all. And then, without any visible warning, the wayward youth sucks in a breath, and takes one step forward.