Deepwood Weald in the ruins where i miss aching for a god

hi, i'm tipsy. so if this doesn't make sense or is super rambling i'm really sorry, lol. @Grezig

dysphoria has been a constant companion of tyr in the weeks that follow his decision to part with mount taygetos. most wolves leave their birth pack — his journey is no different from countless others' — and he's made his choice to leave behind the seeds of what he's sewn as taxiarhos.

he's chosen and now he must live with it.

still, the young commander was trained and has grown with the deep instilled belief that each individual must give for the good of the whole. loneliness settles like a chill in the marrow of his bones; aching. he has never in his life been alone like this. even in the womb he's shared space with siblings. when he was old enough taken from his mother and tossed in the communal den with the other male hoplites.

he craves social order and hierarchical structure.

he needs it.

he was never trained to be a soldier of fortune. a lone spartan can do a lot of damage; trained to the peak of efficiency yes... but he worked better with purpose.

his mood sours as he shrugs into the weald, ducking beneath a rouge spindly limb that reaches for him from an equally as spindly sapling. a spared glimpse skyward tells him that one day the sapling will join the others where their branches tangle together to offer protection from the worst of the weather. the red and green ferns offer some insulation against the cold of the winter as it comfortably sets into the wilds.

he pushes forward, fringes of the ferns brushing against his legs and underbelly where they reached tall enough — some trampling under foot — rustling as he sets to a mission. the only mission he's had since setting out on this voyage: food. water. shelter.

survival.

Grezig was nearby when the male entered the Weald. She could hear snapping twigs and the rustle of underbrush nearby, and a sniff of the air indicated that it was a wolf making all the noise. “Hey there,” she called as she made her way towards the sound. She’d been spending more time in the Weald than in Neverwinter, not wanting to risk running into that group that had wanted to attack them a week or so ago. After wending her way between trees, she saw the male. He was monochromatic in fur color, but he had eyes that were a bright and strange blue-green. Unusual and rather hypnotizing when the rest of him was so… bland. She wagged her tail in greeting and waited, unsure if he would be friendly or not.

tyr is alerted by the sound of approach, taken off guard by the fact that he'd gotten so close to another without realizing. he reacts with an instinctual bristle of hackles and guard hairs at his nape; jeweled gaze studying her as she approaches him with a 'hey there'. her posture is casual — non-threatening and slowly the taunt set of his shoulders loosens. it is a slight and gradual relaxation but there is a stiffness to the own sway of his tail that communicates that he is not fully relaxed.

it's nothing personal. his mood isn't at a high point lately because 'me, myself and i' wasn't really working out all that well for him and she's a stranger. there's always a level of hesitance and uncertainty towards them. hello. he returns back simply, favoring the brevity of speech as he's been taught since he begun learning to speak.

Sorry for this lmao. I’m quitting NWF so…

The male didn’t seem all that open to talking, and since Grezig’s author gave up on Neverwinter Forest anyways, Grezig randomly decided (because I made her) that there was no point in trying to recruit the male. Oh well. Grezig gave the male a strange look—a look that was saying, Huh, I feel funny, and then she turned and walked away. Very strange. 

[Exit.]