Blackfoot Forest striding, powerful, into the arms of death
Ghost
"God is every bit as feral as that which he creates."
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Ooc — Talamasca
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#10
Ah, a mountain woman. No wonder he'd taken a fancy to her so readily; she motions to the distant peak and Revui glances up, envious, wanting to explore those great heights and conquer this mountain as he had so many others. He was appreciative of the thorn-like shape of it, feeling a pang of longing strike at his core.

He is quiet for a long minute. One could argue he was struck dumb by the majesty of the spire but he'd have to have a modicum of intelligence to begin with. Finally he comments, without taking his eyes away from the edge of Sagtannet's mountain which is being swept in to nothingness by a cluster of clouds, Good luck in your hunt. For the missing.

Revui finally looks to her again, studying her, but silent. He begins to pull away from her presence and with a languid stride, continue on his way.

The woods have always been filled with these soft doe-eyed things;
with hearts beating for the arrow, the bullet, the lance.

I have always been the huntsman.  ⤑

Messages In This Thread
RE: striding, powerful, into the arms of death - by Revui (Ghost) - July 23, 2020, 03:11 PM