do as you please // open, joiner.

[ourias.]

If Ourias said that something wasn't dragging him along, he'd be lying. It was just a sense of familiarity, a sense that he knew someone along this path. But, as much as he tried to remember a name, it escaped him. Instead of the names, words lingered in his mind. War, Death, and Pestilence. He didn't know how he knew it, or why the words were there, but something told him that he needed to find the three. That they were important to him. Or they would be important; it was hard to tell which.

And that was how the pull had landed him where he was, on the border of a group. Ourias wanted to step over the border, trying to fight the urge off. He knew they were there. He could sense it.

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