Greatwater Lake dirty soul to take

not at all!

a myriad of intangible creatures sing to him all around, their listless humming and fretful cries sounding only as the faintest of murmurs, yet still his tapered ears attempt to understand what it is they want. perhaps that which he tries his damnedest to comprehend does not even exist to be dissected, removed from its delicate complexity and onto the table of examination. reflexive, muscles work their own way through his unintelligible quirking, his body behaving as a marionette whose handler is not but a toddler, unseasoned hands splaying his spindles. releasing his tail with a dreadful shiver, the almost emaciated red wolf raises his paw to whatever lies before him- the nothingness oft appearing as solid as a rock to the neurotic male- upon hearing the soft tone of someone, someone, somewhere, here, there, anywhere. agitating him to the core, he moves as a pantomime, paws placing themselves gently, smartly against the flat surface of the nothing that blocks him, digits sliding and tapping, feeling for the voice. this thing of the otherworld who speaks to him so. 

still wrapped amongst the macabre curls of the gnarled tree's ancient roots, he shifts backwards ever further into the hollow of the plant's stomach, resigning himself to the womb where the dangers cannot reach with poisoned claws and yellowing teeth. before dear medias can so much as quiver his jittery hind legs backwards, the man makes him known, stepping into his golden view. with a hiccup of fear, the coward himself twitches. fear is unbecoming in those who cannot use it to their advantage- helpless and pathetic as a lost pup, the red wolf snaps his paws back to their own, where they proceed to habitually rub one another, fidgeting, caressing, never still. 


when the man speaks, his voice is kindly enough, although perhaps underlied with something else. His eyes betrayno sign of ill will nor malcontent. but with the cogs roiling within the confines of his simply difficult mind, atramedes glances first to the right and then the left, nervously assessing his purpose here with an obvious uncertainty. bright baubles for eyes stare him to the bone as he stays near, and despite his wanting to fold into the fetal position, roll in his own refuse and disappear from sight and sound, the red wolf knows far better than to try. he bears scars from those he has turned his back on. 

with a shaky countenance that offers no confidence, no encouragement, nothing but the barren emptiness of fear, atramedes deigns politeness the best route, and so reluctantly stretches out a single, quaking paw in greetings. "l-little helps in the wounded n-night, m-mister. h-here there b-be mons-sters." a nervous laugh, as quick and snappy as a collection of hiccups, leaves him then, as the skinny thing takes a moment to analyze his surroundings once more, untrusting, unsure. when golden eyes return their sights to the man, he speaks again. "y-you t-travel to strange p-places, i-if i may s-say so. stay-y small, stay hidden. eyes w-watch, everyone knows. they know."