Neverwinter Forest i hate my last name. i hate everything it stands for

set on the 27th

Cupid could not remember how he got here. Vague details were all that he could go off of; he knew he was sick and delusional. He knew the journey was rough, that there were plenty of stops he'd take to throw up or pass out. How he'd manage to get here? That was a mystery. Why was he here? That was another story.

There was a number of reasons why he had strayed from the vale again, all nonsensical. Just lies after lies to ease his worried soul. None of them worked.

Now he was at a border, still lightheaded and barely conscious. It's a miracle he was still standing, granted he was leaning against a trunk. Him being here was an oddity; there was no reason to linger so close to another pack. He knew he should leave, but something kept him rooted to the spot.

There was an aroma that floated in the air, so thick he could choke on it. It was so familiar too. He never thought one could feel so hopeful yet dreadful at the same time, but he did now. Amist all those undectable scents was @Mal's. That's what kept him here, staring off into the distance.