hoping for anyone from Sacrarium but AW! <3
the sky was clear above, unveiled without a speck of cloud cover. the sun was relentless in spite of the day being only fairly warm, not yet hot enough that tuttuk-siugiak had to seek shelter. imi wondered if the faint, hypnotic ringing tickling at her blunt auds was the sound of sunlight beating down on her pale pelt or if it was a mirage brought on by thirst and an overactive imagination.
these woods were much like the last, as all the forests seemed to be here on these unfamiliar coasts. the trees were monolinths, dark guardians that thinned and spread their watch amongst smaller companions as the she-dog trotted among their ranks -- her course weaving, otterskin bobbing where it hung between her jaws, on account of the trees' size and pattern of growth.
miki did not recognize the flora here, farther south from the seas than she had ever dared to venture. the woodland was fine-combed, the trees slender and harder with bright heads of green. even the grass was unnerving. softer, thicker, lacking in the harsh texture salt grass needed to survive. it put the winterberry on edge.
but at last, she'd found something to parch the dry spot tickling in the back of her throat. water pooled, turning the forest floor into marshland and reflecting back the image of a thousand spirit trees from another realm. kissimi shook off the foreboding and gingerly set the otterskin aside, lapping at the water with gusto despite the slightly brackish tinge.
these woods were much like the last, as all the forests seemed to be here on these unfamiliar coasts. the trees were monolinths, dark guardians that thinned and spread their watch amongst smaller companions as the she-dog trotted among their ranks -- her course weaving, otterskin bobbing where it hung between her jaws, on account of the trees' size and pattern of growth.
miki did not recognize the flora here, farther south from the seas than she had ever dared to venture. the woodland was fine-combed, the trees slender and harder with bright heads of green. even the grass was unnerving. softer, thicker, lacking in the harsh texture salt grass needed to survive. it put the winterberry on edge.
but at last, she'd found something to parch the dry spot tickling in the back of her throat. water pooled, turning the forest floor into marshland and reflecting back the image of a thousand spirit trees from another realm. kissimi shook off the foreboding and gingerly set the otterskin aside, lapping at the water with gusto despite the slightly brackish tinge.
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