Broken Antler Fen alghabat alsihria

curiosity sinks its teeth into roswell and holds swift and steadfast as he makes his way through his home with the naívety that bespoke his youth; a crowned jewel that belonged to children, yet unburdened by the cruel aspects of the world — despite that roswell is no stranger to such things. not really. not with the death of his mother that had loomed like the inevitable sink of a ship in his mood.

through magic and divining from the stars — though his skill is easily fumbled and regulated to the vestiges of his broadening imagination — he has found his tether to ibis' spirit.

and thus, she is always with him or so he believes.

warm sunlight spills from the breaks in the emerald canopy that vines together overhead — looking titanous tall to him — and roswell, wrapped in his thoughts ignores the whispers of the trees and the unusual scent of the interloper that hides in the shadows; misinterpreting the instinctual prickle of unease that settles over him and bristles his guardhairs as being the fact that he's found a particular spot cloying and thick with 'magic'.