Dragoncrest Cliffs comes in the name of peace

the sound of footfalls draws most of scarab's attention, despite that his gaze remains fixated on the potential paths he could take; his body taunt with indecision. it was such a waste to muster all this rebellion courage and not go anywhere. still; something in him warns him not to stray too terribly far from rusalka's borders. his goal wasn't to give the suns of his life heart attacks or cause them to fret if he went missing ...because he is afraid that if he wanders too far he wouldn't be able to find his way home. ankyra sound, the grotto — those were easy to navigate: he could find his way back to the rendezvous den blind. the neutral territories surrounding his home were uncharted waters.

as the footfalls draw nearer and then stop a distance away, scarab glimpses at the older, also sand colored boy out of the corner of his eye. for a moment there is a shiver of his guard hairs as they threaten to bristle: for while he's aware there are other children in rusalka he has no actual opinion of them. scarab'd begun to think they were myths because of the distance they kept. if he saw them in passing he paid them no mind and wrote them off as insignificant to him.

yet, here was one: in the flesh, looking at him as if he was as uncertain as scarab was about the path he should take from here. abandoning his own plight for the moment, scarab swings his head to face the other boy. the dahomey lifts his chin and assess the other boy with a lazy sweep of his gaze. you gonna stand there and stare at me all day or what? scarab confronts him with a small flash of his teeth in a wicked little grin, tone haughty.