Neverwinter Forest susuwatari

There was little rhyme or reason to the inkblot’s life thus far. All in all, it seemed to be a great deal of cause and effect. When startled from slumber by the press of his stormcloud brother, the wee soot sprite instinctively turned his head, the infinitesimal triangles of his ears straining forward despite his inability to hear. The world was a strange and nonsensical place — all smell and taste and touch — and at the sensation of a warm dampness nestling into the fragile nape of his neck, the inky brother trembled minutely and flipped himself onto his back quite by accident.

With babyish indignation he filled his brother’s gummy mouth with his tiny forepaw, flailing blindly as he attempted to flip himself back over. Though he lacked the vocabulary to convey his feeling, this creature beside the soot sprite — brother — was already a bright star in his sightless sky. Warm in a different way than their mother, comforting and true, when the dusty tumbleweed was not nearby, a feeling of wrongness lingered. Tiny grunts of effort stuttered from the inkblot’s muzzle as he rolled himself onto his side like a fluffy sea cucumber with a toothpick at each corner for legs. The flip completed, he swung his head blindly about. With his nose and gums he sought his brother, peeping a plaintive cry without ever realizing he was doing so. Where are you? Where are you?