Ankyra Sound wasteland, baby

@Caiaphas @Vaati

His memories had dissolved to nothing, save for his name and thoughts of sea ice. It was like parts of him were being cast in to the deep water, one by one chipping away at him, becoming trapped under opaque glass sheets. He roamed far from the Wilds, falling back in to a more feral nature and losing all sense of self, of time, of knowing — until he came to the sea, and moved as if transfixed by it. Lured along by the glimmering of the tide or the ethereal sensation that he'd been here before; the sea roared, and it called to him, broke apart some of that ice and let some of his soul loose.

Now he was here, wherever that was. He'd traveled by way of the cliffside to the north, and before that had been a mountain, fields and forests. The bay that stretched on before him was something new but also old, and Larus wasn't sure what to make of the familiarity of the path. It was unsettling. It was nostalgic. It was home, but it was also so foreign — so he sulked in silence along the edge of the black pine forest, wanting very much to tempt fate and venture closer, regardless of the consequences.

The ice refused to let him budge; he was rooted to the forest, where he haunted between the trees.