his crown was ever changing made as it was by leaves and berries of the season
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The empyrean sits once more spot among the ancient, serpentine roots of Lake Rodney’s crowning jewel — the titan oak tree that takes up majority of Lake Rodney’s island. Senescent though it is, the crown’s jewel emits a deep power, whispers of wisdom that can only fall from the lips of those that have stood the age of time, a stalwart stone resilient to the rushing waters of time that seek to alter it, to break it. For now, the titan is the starlight king’s throne as verdant gaze rises to take in the refulgence of the night sky as it yawns wide before him and the last stubborn remnants of dusk cling to the horizon in streaks of red fading pink and regal gold. There is something so ethereal about dusk that the druid loves. It is easily his favorite time of the day: the cusp of the moon swallowing the defiant sun and rising to her true and resplendent beauty. So easily is the druid lost in the map of the stars as he seeks to navigate their intricate weavings to unravel constellations or navigate his way through with the Tulwë Elen but tonight he is upon his (new) favored spot for stargazing and has no intentions of moving any time soon.
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April 30, 2017, 01:41 PM
ooc: I am very sorry that I kept you waiting!
After joining the caldera folk it was very rarely that Birk spent nights outside the territories. He would usually sleep not far from the place, where most of the pack members were residing for the night, feeling comforted and safe by their presence. He even dreamt about things, which had not happened, when he had still run with the ice giants at his former home and, whenever you did sleep, it was always with one eye and ear open to the possible danger. His current pack gave him sense of safety that he had never truly felt or experienced.
However time from time his occasional journeys outside the territories would take him too far to return home before night-fall. And on this particular evening, when Birk almost ran over another night dweller, the exact thing had happened. He had spent far too much time in the Bramble wood, devouring on frog-legs and the likes, and lost track of time.
"Hey," he called out to the fellow, warning him of his approach. "What are you doing here so late?"
After joining the caldera folk it was very rarely that Birk spent nights outside the territories. He would usually sleep not far from the place, where most of the pack members were residing for the night, feeling comforted and safe by their presence. He even dreamt about things, which had not happened, when he had still run with the ice giants at his former home and, whenever you did sleep, it was always with one eye and ear open to the possible danger. His current pack gave him sense of safety that he had never truly felt or experienced.
However time from time his occasional journeys outside the territories would take him too far to return home before night-fall. And on this particular evening, when Birk almost ran over another night dweller, the exact thing had happened. He had spent far too much time in the Bramble wood, devouring on frog-legs and the likes, and lost track of time.
"Hey," he called out to the fellow, warning him of his approach. "What are you doing here so late?"
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