TAKE YOUR PROTEIN PILLS / joining

[spacexual]

VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR — tags

A slight jingle, four small paws making a stomping sound into the snow as he stands upon the mountainous territory, looking around with a lifted head. A hungry body, tired eyes. Though he's had a bit more experience now, living in this body, finding food, realizing that he should, in fact, sleep, just as mortals had, there was still a routine he needed to get used to. One that he has not been able to form yet. Trapped in a body that should not be his, a world that did not know his name, a situation where he had no voice, no family, no lover, no followers, and no Olaine. There was, however, something reminiscent of his former status, at the very least, and that was the jester that could be his voice, one that was just as trapped to him as he was to this world he was cursed to.

The fallen God supposed, at least, he had something, even with all of the failures that followed him, followed his entire family and the rest of the Gods too. Still, he's no clue where the rest ended up. Had their souls been sent elsewhere, as well? Were they here, too? Or had the beast taken them for himself? Why not him, too, in that case? There would be no answers to these questions. There was no one that could hear him think them, no one that would know the answers, either, besides perhaps the villainous monster himself that'd struck them all down. Still, at least he had someone to keep him company, distract his unanswered questions and shame, as well as offer him some sort of a means of communication, even if it was slow progress. The other's inability to read was not exactly helpful.

Still, the fox summoned him. They would be finding a new home. He had a preference to solitude, being an introvert, but being so inexperienced with...quite literally every aspect of his situation, he finds it much easier to survive when there are others he may lean on. Besides, maybe he could find some answers, somewhere. Maybe he could, at least, find a better way of saying things for himself. Somehow. There he stood, on the snowy ground, giving a friendly wave to his comrade as he awaits someone to approach them, hopefully. It smelled of a group's border.

/please wait for sarmenti to respond!