Blackfeather Woods her face it bloomed like a sweet flower [m]

♥ vague about some things b/c recruitment/joining thread is on-going. :-)

there is something that wintersbane observes within himself ....a familiarity with the dark woods that he'd thought he'd forgotten. he remembers the paths: the long, the short. he remembers the way through the tunnels. it ...perturbs him but he often tucks that creep of cold shiver that threatens to crawl along the flesh of his spine at bay. when he thought of returning it, his mind had crafted an illusion of what it might be. he would feel smug that he looks nothing like the small cream puff nyx had taken beneath her wing; would silently gloat and bask in the revels of his private glory. smugness and glory avoided him. he feels ...curious. curious about the child that lured him back, curious about all that had transpired since he'd last been there. curious about what he'd rebelliously defied as a child, about how he will acclimate himself into their ranks this time and how long he might last.

gone were nyx, vaati, neo (aries) ...and numerous others. though, wintersbane is not remiss to know that vaati is gone. despite that the rivalry and dislike of the older boy'd been formed as children it remains rooted deeply within the tundrian's bones. he will never like the silvered and sand dappled boy. sometimes, roots ran too deep to be excavated ...and even severed from the tree as a whole they still remain. suppressed by the earth that covers them but wholly defiant. glacial gaze takes note of different things. landmarks, paths that look untrodden, paths that look well worn, et cetera as he prowls through the woods when a call rises for him.

he does not recognize the voice that summons him but nevertheless makes his way towards it. it draws him deeper into the territory. he shrugs into the grotto. the woman — undoubtedly the owner of the voice — stands near the alter. he'd never been to this place ...before. nyx had kept him on a relatively tight leash and there'd been places he'd been forbidden to go. glacial eyes take it in with a quick, assessing sweep before it flickers to the writhing rabbit laying in the bowl-like crevice, it's lifeblood pooling around it as it dies slowly. the tundrian's gaze shifts then and falls back upon his summoner. her pelage is a mixture of pale, soft moonbeams, and a starless night. for a moment the soturi deliberates whether he should speak ...or wait to be spoken to. there is an energy about this place that bids him to still his tongue and keep to silence. no doubt she has heard his approach. previously, he might not've bid the temple the same respect he does now ...but after lotte came to him in his dreams he questions a lot of his previous notions about numerous things.