Phantom Hollow I am the earl... the earl, of nothing!
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Ooc — Talamasca
Tactician
Seer
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Alerted to the familiar scent of family—a scent which Titmouse did not think he would ever find again—had sent him in to a state of disarray; he left the Bramblepoint while his mate was preoccupied and spent the resulting hours heading in to the wind, across the hillside until the hollow welcomed him.

He was frenzied. The shadows shifted as time passed and he twitched around them, unable to settle the agitation of his racing heart or the buzzing in his ears. Titmouse could hardly remember what his family looked like now—he could picture vague shapes if he wanted to, but a face-blindness had descended upon him at some point that never resolved. When he thought of family he only saw fire, only smelled burning, only heard screams and the incessant crackle of his home going up in flames.

His throat burned with thirst. His ancient scar began to ache with false pain, an imagined noose around his neck; then when he found a secluded pond of stagnant water Titmouse plunged nose-first in to it, dunking his face, his head—letting it drown out his thoughts as he pushed from the edge. The man drifted there for what felt like an endless, unbound time... And then with a gasp, erupted from the center for a breath of air.