Chimera Fields Until you step into the unknown, you don’t know what you’re made of

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The empyrean watches as the girl gives a start — so much for his attempt to keep from startling her! — and watches with an unapologetic leer upon his lips as she rolls out of the tall heath grasses. Mato does not inherently mean to mock but he lets out a low snicker of amusement nevertheless as she flails about before him attempting to find her paws; forgetting that he once harbored a clumsy, inelegance not so very long ago. Her blue eyes are bright, the druid notices as her gaze touches his for a moment. “Hello,” The druid offers her, unable to mask the mirth that threatens to spill from betwixt his lips. It bubbles in the strong column of his throat but never breaks the surface. “Mato.” The empyrean offers her simply after she gives her own name. His muzzle extends ever-so-slightly towards her so he can take in her scent with a flare of his black, leathery nostrils. He drinks it in noting that unlike him she is lone. She confirms this information a few seconds later when she admits she is new to the area and inquires as to what has transpired to the chimeric territory. He is decidedly not new to the Wilds but the druid cannot say what has necessarily happened. This is his first time visiting the two-faced lands but the scars run deep. He can see it, he can feel it — the ache. “I do not know,” The druid admits, verdant gaze sweeping over the ruined half of the territory, noting the felled trees. “It could have been powerful winds or a wildfire.” Though there is a distinct lack of charring; but he does not know for sure as he has never bore witness to either disaster. “There is ache to the earth here,” He murmurs his thoughts aloud, as if he has forgotten she is even there. “perhaps it will one day be reborn,” He muses quietly. “— or perhaps it will always bear these scars.” There are more experienced naturalists who would, without a doubt, know much better than he.

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