Swiftcurrent Creek acqua più blu

[table width=55%][tr][td]

he had met but one man of these lands: castiel. and though armand had several words to say upon that front, he nevertheless continued on his way, sleeping where he would and surviving off small kills. there was not a drive to live within the boy -- he had lost too much, and found himself tossed like so much bereft jetsam upon the great internal ocean. and so he cared not if he breathed nor if he starved. he sought no solace within a pack; he sought no companion.
presently armand came unto a stream, and while he let his eyes linger on its beauty, ultimately its waters satisfied only his thirst. armand reached 'round to touch his ribs, attempt to touch the point of his hip. each day it grew sharper, the flesh melting from around it. soon he would be dead, and this did not perturb the boy as it would another creature. quietly he drifted to sleep where he sat upon the bank, exhaustion enveloping him.

[/tr][/td][/table]