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Nerves set to flame and more than just alive, I haven't seen any of that yet. It's gone with age and the decay that time has on everything. I'm not a child tumbling through the brambles and ferns clotted with snow in search of miscellaneous souls that linger around like ghosts trying to find the exit. This place was once so safe and care free for my younger self.
Well, it died when Amara looked liked she'd been dead for weeks on end and at the mercy of every element and predator within the land.
Gray, mellow, and constantly depressing clouds tumble overhead lifelessly. Snowflakes fall at random points but don't hold much of an appearance when their friends all lie on the ground, trampled and discoloured by anyone who stepped into it with muddy frogs. My own trail must be orange, the same colour the Dragon's Throat unconsciously paints all of it's inhabitants with. The faint sound of crunching ice over the sand and grasses near the lake still echo in the depths of my ears, which swivel erratically at every sound lacking a source.
Something familiar rises out of the snow and trees, sweet scent of knowing that it's someone I've met in the past, knowing it could be friend or foe, but the idea of finding someone whose name isn't a mystery makes the horrors seem less likely to happen.
In the end, it's Thor, a lone giant who isn't like Hector when it comes to height. I might lavish myself in the fiery giant's presence, but Thor is a sculptured mold of earth who I'm unwilling to attach myself to. It's probably not worth it in the end, attaching myself to so many when I could ruin their lives like I seem to do with the ones I already have.
The female he's with has height to me. She's beautiful, unique and special in her coat. Adrixaura taught me not to trust looks when my eyes watch her carefully, ears alert for her words. He's already spoken, so I don't have to do much. I can sit back and offer warmth, a family and a home with my name in a short and simple manner.
"I'm Sikeax, but call me Sia, from the Dragon's Throat." I go to Thor with my eyes, glancing momentarily as if he could spill more for me. The better the first impression, the more I might be successful. Vzarda's attempt still makes me feel uncomfortable.
"Would there be anything I could help you with?" At least I'm not sniffling and sneezing like before; he can't tease me now over seasonal sickness.
OOC: Would you like to be tagged?
you were angels,
so much more than everything
:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed
