he's heading into the glacier's sub-territory: greyfall caverns
The waters of the meltwater lake are cool and refreshing; and he drinks deeply from where he stands upon it’s bank. The morning was a burning ember in the sky as it ascends, making it, if Drogon had to guess, about mid-morning. Sweet dew clung to the grasses and leaves that he brushed past, melding the scent of the glacier with his own musk no longer affiliated as he was. The soturi has become something of a mercenary, he realizes. He was stolen from the Enok Tundra Teaghlaigh and found by Nyx and taken into Blackfeather Woods; but as he does not deign to worships gods he does not believe in nor is he much of the secretive type he travels now with Cascada for she is cut of something of a similar vein as he …but how long will it last? She has intents of claiming but he’d scared off the other adult pledge (whether he knows it or not) and it remains just the two of them still. He pushes those thoughts away: he is unburdened by guilt and unapologetic for how he is. The world never apologized to him for making him this way so Drogon feels he should not apologize for surviving in the only way that he knows how.
He takes a step back from the lake, towards the forest of pine and maple trees and draws his tongue against his lips and jowls to collect the remaining droplets of water to cling to the fur of his chin. A creeping glimpse upwards reveals the glacier as it looms: magnificent and icy between the two mountains on either side of the territory. It is a sight to behold but he does not linger long. He follows the mountain and peers into the yawning mouth of the cavern, ears twitching atop his skull as he swears from within he hears the echoes of rushing water. Without hesitance (for drogon has always been adventurous) he slips inside the mouth of the cavern, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark that envelops him before he moves forward, heading deeper in, steps careful against the dirt and stones slick with slime and condensation.
He takes a step back from the lake, towards the forest of pine and maple trees and draws his tongue against his lips and jowls to collect the remaining droplets of water to cling to the fur of his chin. A creeping glimpse upwards reveals the glacier as it looms: magnificent and icy between the two mountains on either side of the territory. It is a sight to behold but he does not linger long. He follows the mountain and peers into the yawning mouth of the cavern, ears twitching atop his skull as he swears from within he hears the echoes of rushing water. Without hesitance (for drogon has always been adventurous) he slips inside the mouth of the cavern, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark that envelops him before he moves forward, heading deeper in, steps careful against the dirt and stones slick with slime and condensation.
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