Golden Glade i can bring a halo into the night cave

nts: maybe 1.5 weeks since druid/klaus thread for timeline. @Alara and @Makan if you want!

he rose from a migraine that felt like a whale.

heat lightning energized his steps for a few days, on the run from the iris of the bypass. the lintel of the door was high enough to pass but low enough to illicit a feeling of foreboding in his gut, though that could be due to his erratic diet as einzelgänger.

he finds himself in the heart of the fire-pit weald, licking his chops as he scents the air for a much needed meal.

He hungers and he hunched in hunt of something to fix it.

This was not the bog. Little creatures would not be seated idly in pools, waiting to be devoured by hunters. Anything here would need more work, would move quicker than something like a frog.

It was not a hunting — to him — trail he found though.

Still he followed it and he did not hide his approach.

ty for joining! :-)

it’s his likeness to the broadsword himself that set him off when he acted from the telltale sensations reverberating up his spine, following a dark murder of crows, but with the confidence of a man with abandon he was foreign to—and from the look of it, to think they were matched in age!

he gives a click like a piezo popping back into place with his teeth in warning, bristling. he did not like being hunted, thought the right display of submissiveness would position him in a chessboard space, not exactly opposed to a two-bodied hunt.

ofc! and i love that new avatar :0

A click — and like a dog being trained he halted. He listened. He steadied himself in the presence of another man. One who was tattered further than his own necklace injury.

His hunched form became something softer but just as low.

Look, he did not speak. I do not hunger for you. Would it soothe the grizzled man? Or perhaps it was this man that hungered for the blood of their own kind.

He supposed he would find out soon enough.

ty <33

relaxing his hackles and his white-knuckled fists, not so much the pelage along his nape, he shook his head with a bluster of indignation from his nose.

then what? why stalk?

he'd seen too many a vulture in wolf's clothing to not be wary, to many a young absalom who let their rot coalesce, not in a vacuum, but in a calculated way to strike his betrayee in the back, just for a selfsame reason—food.