It was a conflict, living here. Instinct and logic battled day and night and Argus was left grounded to the earth without any hope of escape. Just a few weeks, they already felt the familiar itching in their skin- Argus wasn't Obscuro - there was no revenge to be done here. there was no purpose beside the comfort of the sands, the golden sea of a painful death that argus mourns with all of their bleeding, aching heart.

The wolf looked to peace, and found themselves grasping sand and blood in equal hand. It wasn't like argus has fought their family before- fought friends and family and sisters and brothers and-

gods, there was so much blood on their hands.

Vines attached to their side, wing pulled into their body just to keep it from falling-dragging-displacing again. Argus didn't look up, head tilted downward as they traded footsteps with the sand and dirt that toed the border from the jungle. The desert was quiet at night, but the jungle was loud-loud-loud. Sitting between two worlds of themselves, peering into both and choosing neither.

Argus was adaptable, they were volatile to change on a dime and cunning enough to catch themselves when they did it. This was just.. another catch. Just another step in the grand life of [/i]fucked[/i] they lived. The desert would always be their home - it could be just like last last time- like...

Like whisper.

[member=3615]JERVIS[/member]