LAST LINES - patrol

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'ARIA'  P H O B O S  .|.  S U S U R R U S  I N F E R I  .|.  'REQUIEM'  D E I M O S

Given the sudden resurgence in the pitt’s Warlike activities, it seemed only fitting that they would up their patrol routine - which is why Susurrus found himself patrolling near the border lines of the pitt’s Boundary.

To most the stench of the rotting flesh on the spiked wall of the borderlines might be offputting at best but to the wolf, he hardly seemed to be phased by it - after all Hellinas and their lesser kindreds and thrills stank much worse in their slain rotting states, the sulphurous fumes nauseous at best and causing illness at worst.

Blue teeth flashed over a black tongue as he grimaced at the memory - it was better when the foul filth faded to ash and blackened bones on this side of the worldview - at least then they cleaned up their own messes, not so in the unearthly realms.

No there they simply gathered and stank and morphed into the landscapes like a macabre canvas that did nothing but stagnate and strangle anything underneath, better to remove the ever hungry ones entirely.

Susurrus grumbled yo himself, keeping up a steady pace along the borderlines.

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[aine.]

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AINE NÍ BROIN
FLESHWEAVER
FAE DRUID
INFORMATION

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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]I'LL C[color=#36829c]OME BACK WHEN YOU CALL ME

Her father tended to scold her whenever she trotted out into the desert.  For her leg, mostly, which she still refrained from putting too much weight on.  But there was life, even across the vast sand and the petite deer-fox felt drawn to it.  Of course, she never liked worrying her father... Aloe was just a useful plant.

One she was carefully tucking into a borrowed satchel when she noticed the stark black and blue against the sandy red.  Her hazel hues failed her more often than not, at long-distance, but she knew it was a clanmate.  Hesitant, but curious, the Fleshweaver closed the satchel and began padding, often wobbling, in his direction.

She stretched out one of her wings, more stark black and white, in greeting as she approached.  She didn't entirely enjoy the border, in all honesty.  The wall made her... Ill.  Rather than back off now though, she kept her eyes on Susurrus.  Someone new to her.  Uncertain.  She flicked her ears, noting the trail.  One her father often walked.

"Salut... Um.  Sus- ... Susurrus?" Sounded right.  Her tongue resting on the roof of her mouth.  Hopeful.  "'m Aine...  Are you patrolling?"

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© MADI

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'ARIA'  P H O B O S  .|.  S U S U R R U S  I N F E R I  .|.  'REQUIEM'  D E I M O S

Despite having been here for a few days now it was true enough he had barely interacted with anyone residing in this ‘pitt’ preferring so far to stick with the company of his husbands, not for lack of wanting to interact but merely because it was more familiar,

At most he’d met perhaps three of them - the Ardent’s Praetor Gael and the strange pup, Virgil - outside of that he’d only seen the others from afar,

So he was rather surprised when a small voice broke through his wandering thoughts, he stopped his slow walk momentarily to glance down beside himself.

Aine she called herself - and from what he’d been told of the descriptions, this was their healer - fleshweaver - no? He inclined his head to her - somewhat surprised but gratified she knew his name and spoke it well (most did tend to trip over the many s’s inherent in it)

He hummed with a nod of affirmation ”a pleasure miss Aine - and yes, I was patrolling, a slow day though it seems” he didn’t know whether to be grateful for that, it might be boring but an attack was more trouble than it was worth sometimes, hm.

His pale eyes flickered back to her from where they’d wondered to glance at the horizon across from the rotting border - and then flickered to how gingerly she had moved on her leg and the black threaded face of the redeemer frowned in concern ”should you be walking on a bad leg?”

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[gael]

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♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

It may simply be in his daughter's stubborn nature to venture when she should rest -- a trait he felt uncertain the origin of.  Steadfast he may be, the vulpine knew how to drift with the flow.  Patient, as a leaf in the wind, to observe as the wind guided him.

Close to heart, he held the memory of a kind faerie; one who knew how to both hold her ground and raise the spirits of those around her simultaneously.  Salome, who never let anything short of a hurricane or worse hold her back.  Salome, he saw in the persistence winning over the pain -- the Imperator could only hold back a sigh as he caught up to Susurrus and Aine.

Despite his wariness of this insistence, he felt relived she had approached the other Pittian -- on her own, no less.  The desert carried a roughness better faced together than alone.

"She shouldn't" -- the scolding came in light tone, but direct all the same.  "Though it seems futile convincing you otherwise, Lottie," as close to an admission of defeat Gael may offer.

Try -- he planned to continue regardless, especially if they wanted the leg to heal sooner than later.  In his experience, broken bones could take months of patience and bearing, but the proper care kept that recovery smooth and steady.

"Good to see someone out here," he offered after a moment, the relief still present in his chest.

Finally, he did sigh, giving Aine a thoughtful look.  "Now what would it take for me to convince you to return to the temple with those herbs?"

"I AM A STONE" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / imperator / lamby