Lion Head Mesa i found a catalyst for disaster in you

The mount is unlike any that Kahl can claim he’s seen before. He’s seen numerous mountains in his (short) life but this one appeared to be flat at the top. It’s peak does not stretch towards the heavens forever denied. Rather, it is almost as if it is content with the knowledge that it will never touch that which it is denied. He, too, has been denied something that belongs to him. She is forever denied to him; but Kahl cannot remember her. Not properly. He has twisted and manipulated his own memories until what came before Nyx and Blackfeather Woods is a lie but a lie he has told himself so many times that it has become his truth. The Tundrian is restless, though. Seeking that which is missing from him. He only feels it is a she because that is as nature dictates. He grows and sometimes he aches from the continuous grow of bones. He grows taller, broader and slowly the baby fat has begun to melt away. Kahlil will always be a hefty beast but with Tundrian muscle instead if pudge.

The cherub is morphing into something indefinitely much more deadly.

Kahlil moves through the dry grass and spindly trees: the small pond of what was once a lake all that is left for the summer heats have dried it all up otherwise. Soon, he suspects, there will be no water left in the receded lake bed. He prowls along earth cracked and dry shaped by the flow of water to what remains of the lake, dipping his head to sate his thirst, holding fast to the most important thing he has learned: that all things must change and must adapt or else they would not survive and cease to exist. Umbra dusted ear flicks lazily, as if shooing off a bothersome fly but the soturi listens, alert for any sign of approach.