Sun Mote Copse mention our ghosts, our knotted spines

aw, delight is so cute! ♥

The pair continue on, Mato reflecting upon his thoughts without giving them to voice, convincing himself that he is not being too fastidious (which is a perfectly typical thing from Mato) simply because he has never regarded himself in such a way before, never truly cared about how he came off to others. Until recently. The empyrean suspects that Seabreeze plays her own part in his sudden awareness of his self; but perhaps it is also everything — all of it. The building of Tindómë once metaphorical stone at a time. It lifts Mato’s focus and attentions off of that which he can never touch in return for something that he can, something that together he and Seabreeze can build, can create themselves. That, in an of itself, is just as magical as the constellations above. His steps cease as the sneeze echoes through the copse, causing Mato’s ears to cup forth atop his skull. Silently, he spares a glimpse at Seabreeze beside him before he steps forth to greet the earthen colored wolf with pale eyes as he speaks that the copse is dusty.

Mato regards him with bright, apple green eyes, noting that he is small, wispy. Not that Mato is any great titan. The moonbeam kissed druid has always been average in every way. Umbra cape hairs bristle slightly with fear uncertainty as he regards the other but there is nothing hostile in Morwinyon’s posture. “I suppose it is,” The empyrean responds with a small tug of his lips. While the stranger finds it dusty, Mato finds it beautiful: but to each their own. “I am Mato and this is Seabreeze.” He introduces, gesturing back to his companion, wondering (perhaps absently) if she minds that he makes the introductions for them. Mato takes a deep breath, drinking in the male’s scent to determine if he is alone or of a pack. The lingering scent of others does not mix with his natural musk and the druid is left to assume that he is lone.