Stone Circle capture the cretan bull

since his most recent reading of the threadbones for the beta, the whispers they typically would elicit, like a smoker craving the next hit of nicotine, had quieted.

for now, they were sated and the soothsayer turns his attention to the physical.

he haunts the borders like a menacing shadow, scarred muzzle aimed towards the no man's land between the borders and the neutral territory besides.

the morning is already warm, the air heavy with humidity; the sun unrelenting as he patrols. and though a part of him enjoys the shade as he moves beneath it where it peppers the borders, he does not terribly mind the warmth of the sun along his spine.