Hushed Willows plain white shirt and a skinny black tie

@Aeryn - i had some reif muse so i thought i'd get this up! no pressure to reply until you've the time n' muse <3

time had passed in elysium since that odd day and reif would muse at how it really didn't care much for the rest of them. no matter what happened within this little bubble that was his and each wolf of elysium's life, time wouldn't even blink. he had learnt quickly that it waited for no one. 

as the young boy sat amongst the whispering willows, light rain drizzling down from heavy grey clouds- he focused on marvelling at his new favourite thing, his stick. yes you heard that right, reif's favourite thing was a stick. not siblings, packmates or remaining parents- an inanimate piece of wood. a week or so ago, not too long after his talk with cortez- reif had finally broken down under the increasing pressure of memories and confusion. usually when something like this happened he sought sticks to crunch under his jaws or stones to scrape little baby teeth or blunt claws off of. it was on that day he came cross his stick, it was smooth and shockingly solid considering its relatively light weight. it was about shoulder height in length /bear in mind he's still relatively small/ but what caught his eye the most was- someone else had been at this stick before. there were scratches on it, strange patterns scraped carefully into the surface quite like the designs he himself liked to create in the dirt when stressed.

not only was this interesting and pretty, he'd found a strange relief in running soft pads along the now familiar ridges and grooves. ears flick- the first movement in a while- sending droplets flying into the air that had settled atop his golden fur. although he seemed completely unaware of the light water cascading down around him- his frail body had started to tremble lightly in an effort to alert his mind that it was cold, and wet. with a frown, reif would shake his head as if coming out of a trance- glancing around the area. he supposed he ought to find shelter, he'd been warned that getting too cold could make you sick and wasn't really in the mood to test the theory. but ever since momma had died /a subject he'd finally gotten explained to him and had spent many days deep in thoguht over/ he didn't like spending as much time in the den, finding it a bit crowded and overwhelming. something he'd never felt before, it had always been the opposite- the one place he'd felt safe. 

so there he remained, only certain that he didn't wanna go back but unsure where else to look and feeling weary at even the idea of it. with a little sigh he'd simply sink into a crouch amongst the long strands swaying around him, lacking the independence to do anything but wait for a solution to arise.