ALL LEGACIES HIDE IN THE EMBERS ✭ o

[MIAMIHORROR]

The moors have grown colder since he had last made footfall here.  Gusts of wind would ruffle his cream-colored fur and the brush would whisper somberly in response, much unlike their gentle sway in the summer's breeze of yestermonth.  It still looks the same — the bordering treeline has been painted over with warm honey hues that looked to be bathed in glittering gold when the setting sun hit, yet the field itself appears just as he recalls.  He figures that the real differences may lie just below the surface, but he can never tell whether he'll be patient enough to stick around and find out.

Of course, he hasn't truly been gone that long, nor had he ever properly left.  The wolf knew he was a drifter — hell, even coming back he didn't intend to stay forever, or God forbid he get restless.  The male's heavy pawsteps announce his wandering forth, lopsided and lazy in gait.  His copper gaze remains only half-interested and cool all the while, only a vague gleam behind them as he pads to a slow halt with an absentminded running of his tongue across knifelike canines.  "Miami," he finally offers, rather suddenly and without preamble.  His attention has been drifting nonchalantly across the group, but it now comes to rest on Marianna — Maria, as she says.  "Where's 'at light show?" he asks with a vague tilt of his head and a roll of his scarred shoulders.  Miamihorror's deadpan makes it impossible to tell when he's teasing, though there's that mild glint behind his eyes when he adds, "You oughta know that I don't usually give out my name for free."