The Sentinels uncomfortable all the time

AW!

He hadn't seen @Vegas in some time and the scent of him seemed to grow stale. Which meant his numbers for his small band had shrunk more than he cared to admit. He strayed further out that day in hopes of finding something inspiring or another face to bring home. Although he began to think that this was not the place for either of those things. It was a practical wasteland.

Rokig skirted around any still standing trees, not interested in being caught under one today, as he moved through the desolate forest. Perhaps he ought to focus on getting out of here instead of moving deeper within.

TAG! he yells, shoving his nose into @Fynn's shoulder fur and nipping him playfully before turning to sprint away. he makes it some distance ahead of his boyfriend, glancing back over his shoulder once before deciding to put some real distance between them. fynn will catch up eventually, he's sure; sometimes it's fun to make him work for it, though.
the forest catches his eye from afar, and he finds himself heading for it, wondering if they could transition into a game of hide and seek here. he slows down as he reaches it, realizing it isn't the most welcoming place now that he's nearer — but it's still pretty cool. he doesn't expect to see a familiar face here, though. rokig? the name slips from him before he can stop it when he spots the other, and his ears flush a little as he recalls that the male had never actually told him personally; he'd learned it from the members of undersea... which rokig wouldn't really know, would he?

“Tag!” The nose shoved to his shoulder meant war. No matter how much he enjoys the view of Blossom bounding away, Fynn is forever up for a challenge. Rebellious and competitive as per always. “You little shit, get back here!” He calls after his boyfriend, sprinting after. Alas, Blossom has always been a touch faster than he, and Fynn is left in the dust.

Trees, some ashen and crisp, tower in the distance, and it is there that he finds Blossom’s scent trail leads. A cheeky smirk curves across Fynn’s muzzle as he powers on, charging towards the familiar red form ahead with his tail wagging. He attempts to tackle his boy gently, nipping playfully at an ear closest to him. Alas, they aren’t alone, and his playful antics are temporarily paused.

“Hey, sup?”

"Rokig?"

He didn't recognize the voice just yet but when his head turned to catch sight of the figure, there was a soft stir of feelings that started in his chest. The colors were easily recognizable and the memories that flooded him made him a touch guilty. The appearance of the other was met with little reaction as he stood there with a flat look on his face as his brain ushered his tongue to work.

I'm sorry. He mumbled softly, gaze flitting between the two males before it landed on Blossom. I haven't seen a familiar face in some time. There was a touch of sadness in his voice that wouldn't be found on his face.