Noctisardor Bypass Something lately drives me crazy

For the male, the seasons of warmth were ones that he favoured, though his thickened coat often tried to make him change his mind. No matter how uncomfortable the heat made him at times, however, he could not favour the months that housed fall and winter. Most plants were dead during that time, making the quest for a flower nearly impossible to complete. So fragile and sensitive were the plants, able to be damaged by even the softest of cold, wintry breaths. It bothered him greatly when he could not find any flowers, for always had he found them to be appealing. As a boy, it was only due to their visible beauty, but since having grown and been torn away from his home, it was now because of the memories that came along with them. So many triggered the image of his mother's smiling face within his mind—a face that he had always loved, but knew that he'd never see again. Memories and flowers were all he had to remain connected to her, and so the chill of the morning had him dreading what he knew was coming.

Thankfully, though, the flora had yet to begin dying away, thus allowing him to witness its beauty even still. The Bypass, especially, was a wondrous sight, possessing both natural charms and familiar attractions. Alastor missed living within the territory, within the only real home he'd had following his kidnapping. For that, he'd planned to linger within it for a while longer, exploring whilst simultaneously reliving whichever significant events decided to venture towards the front of his mind. Although, plans did not always play out as they were desired to, which had been the case for the foreigner when he'd spotted an unfamiliar body. Even from his distance away, the cautious nature of her posture was visible, and enough so to be concerning. Troubled wolves were often dangerous wolves, for fear could drive even the most sane of individuals to madness. Of course, his pace had slowed considerably, muscles tensing beneath the surface. Yet, on the outside, he was amiable, calm and wearing a neutral expression.

Several meters remained between them when the male had stopped moving, watching her as he wondered to himself how she might react to his being there. He was a tall individual and seemingly cumbersome, but the latter was nothing more than an illusion. It was, however, a trick of the eye that he did not often address, for he knew himself to be a gentle soul. But for the female, his subconscious had prompted him to say, "I mean you no harm." It was the truth, his tone genuine. From his spot he would not move until she did so, for Alastor was not one to force interactions, nor was he much of a fighter.