+ track!

LION-SPIRITED { .:*・°☆ } ——— [size=10pt]info

This was not the first time she lost something, nor would it be the last. But it didn't quite count, considering she hadn't been here when the flood happened. What about now, though, when she was finally back? Could she look at this place and consider it a home? It was a question she avoided, not wanting to get attached through fear of having it taken away. Besides, she was supposed to be living for herself, not anyone else--not a group of other people.

"She's got a point." Ymir says with a nod, the wolf coming to stand with the two. "I'll tag along. Nothing better to do up here." it would be nice to get out of the snow at least. "character's speech."

SUNHAVEN — GOLDENBLOOD — FEMALE — BORDER COLLIE — PLAYED BY KICKSIE

© ceilidh

Deluges of avidity and zeal teared his system, his heart rate zooming past figures which seemed only imaginable over the past few weeks. Every enraptured leap caused a rainfall of mud and muck as his hefty paws pounded unto the debris-ridden sludge. Hope, entirely lost a few days ago, re-emerged, birthing a brilliance in his chocolate optics. The brilliance was one of thrill, elation, and delirium; it had been present in his first few days of his enrolment in Sunhaven, only to be lost when the hollow conflict with another tribe had come into play. However, none of that appeared to matter at this very moment, and Wendell, he pined to not think about any of it.

The patrol’s faint outlines, which the Dawnguard could spot from some distance away, grew with each unyielding tread of his. Mere seconds ago had he heard Marina’s unmistakable dialect, and now, Wendell was in a vehement scamper towards the bunch. The last interaction he had with another animate being had been nearly a week ago, conversing with his former boss by the border, and ever since that pre-dawn, things had taken a turn for the worst. His mental state had deteriorated immensely (dealing with isolation and separation wasn’t his best suit), and his filth-adorned pelt was in dire need of a good cleaning. The events unfurling around him, the destruction of his home, soon followed by his comrades’ decampment without him, closely resembled one of the bleakest points in his short lifespan. In this manner, pessimism overtook his realist view on the world’s devices, and proceeded to perceive Sunhaven as an element of the past, never to be replicated. Today, Wendell caught that this was untrue, as he found himself coming to a skidding halt in the occupation of his hulking leader, the abstruse Ymir, the wholehearted Bex, the secure Bucky, and two others whom he had either met briefly or not at all, their names difficult to pinpoint.

"By God," he’d exclaim jovially, almost beholding their presences as imagination, ”I... I thought you all were gone, y’know? Like, just by looking at the absolute state of th’ village, I thought everybody was either long-gone - or dead.” His ending statement had been under the guise of a hushed tone, for he had only realized halfway into speaking it, that it may have been true. His brain felt wobbly, as if he was in a dreaming state of mind. For hours on end, horrible thoughts about his acquaintances’ demises plagued his troubled cognizance, individually decaying his ingenuity, one by one. And now, all of a sudden, those corrupted inklings had diminished, instead replaced by surreal jubilation. ”I’s so worried about you guys,” the Dawnguard continued breathlessly, somewhat wondering if they felt the same for him, ”and it’s- it’s-“, his words blockaded from truly forming by pure gratification, ”it’s just so good to see everybody.”

He could feel the sensation of soppy tears rising behind his eyes, though he fought them. It wouldn’t put off a great returning impression for those at hand, the man who survived nearly a week on nothing but scraps and few hours of sleep, crying. He felt no shame in doing so, most times, but it just didn’t feel correct in this scenario. It did not.