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When Sacre arrived at the border of the Dragons Throat he was travel stained and weary, not really wanting to be away from the Worlds Edge for all that long, he had pushed himself at a faster pace. Inari grumbled behind him, the odd curse word being muttered into the healers mind just to make sure that he understood how disgruntled and irritated the red fox was. Sacre endured it, knowing his eldest companion would let it go eventually and also half wishing he would be as bright and cheerful as Ríona was. The Kitsune adored the Dragons Throat and had been heartbroken ever since the day her silly red-eared friend had dragged her from it to go settle in a new, much colder and less beautiful place—in the end, Sacre didn't stand a chance of making both of them happy. Yet, it was a task he must complete as it had been bugging him now for seasons, that the key tied messily into his mane, was still there after all this time. He had tried to return it before, but had never gotten anywhere due to simple circumstance. He had been carrying it in his hair for that long he often forgot it was there, it was only on the odd occasions when it fell out that Sacre noticed it again and was reminded that he still needed to attempt to return it. This time, the healer made a decision that he would camp out on the Throat border until someone appeared—lest he throw the damn thing in the ocean! Although he had made the key himself after all and was quietly rather fond of his handy work, but it was a small burden in his life and, despite being its creator, he wasn't, in fact, its owner anymore. Standing on the shoreline, looking out over the water to his old herd, as the sun began to rise on a hazy Tallsun morning, Sacre waited. Ríona had taken the key from his twisted black locks and held the item in her small mouth, four dusty tails dancing behind her as Inari sulked on the floor, under Sacre's belly. There was little to do but hope someone would spot them soon and that finally he might be able to give back the final piece he had left of the Throat; the desert land that he still looked upon fondly. there's something tragic about you something so magic about you |
@Volterra
There's something wretched about this
Something so precious about this
❚ Force permitted!
❚ Please tag me!
