Ouroboros Spine if the light that shines some day goes out
inhale the stars, exhale fire
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Ooc — gerra
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All Welcome 
vague to be some time after this probably
They were staying close to the fringes of things. At least Antares certainly was, preferring to loiter more on the eastern edges, near the borderlands, further secured by it sinking in that Neverwinter had moved on from their claim, too. Sometimes, he toed his way down to what he could consider the glen's boundaries, trying to track or stretch his legs... but more often than that, he tried to rest. Even if sleep was fitful, sometimes short-lived--oddly for him, made best when he found the right company to be near, which was difficult to deal with too. He managed to catch his glimpses, at least, and thanks to this, some of the worst of his aches seemed to calm; he faced each day a little clearer than the last. Antares was still dismayed at the process, and haunted by the wounded spear he struggled to keep out of his sight.

The feeling of it all had not left him. The exhaustion refused to lift in full. He still smelled the fear, and the ash of Moonspear's destruction woven into his fur. Antares couldn't seem to clean it off, and not for any lack of trying--evidenced once again by the present trail he left from a nearby creek. The warmer days were giving him that much, so he was taking full advantage of frequent wading that turned to full-dunks most days. Sometimes multiple times a day, because if he smelled like wet wolf, he smelled the suffering less. He had written it off as an effort to help keep his scabs rinsed and aches freshened, not knowing if anyone had caught on to his deeper motives yet. 

It was getting good and dark out, which he appreciated now as he had come to an open space to be with the stars and finish drying himself off. He didn't have the heart to seek proper elevation, so open sky would just have to do. Antares picked a simple spot in the edge of the open and settled down to groom, facing towards the Glen's direction. His expression was pensive as he picked at his wet toes, bordering on a grimace.
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if the light that shines some day goes out - by Antares - March 16, 2021, 01:21 AM