AESIOR OPHELES
✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go
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Aggressive as wind that whistled through mountain peaks and passes, would the distance and mutilated sounds of stone and metal's collision whip past ears of the mute who dared to search for herbs upon windswept cliffside. A breath would leave him, ears flattening as he thought, gale snatching temperate exhale. Listening as he leaned against sun-warmed stone to rest joints that demanded a break in his hazardous clamber for sprigs and sprouts. Upon his ears would once again fall the earlier sound, the wind bringing it a bit more clearly. He knew this sound, he knew it well just as he knew the ring of his hammer upon anvil and all matters of metal.
Descending slowly with few roots within his maw, deposited within the satchel resting against the foot of the cliffside he had scaled. Perhaps he was most suited for this sort of thing with nimble and thin limbs that allowed him to reach places others couldn't without use of some element or wing. Pushing his head through the loop of leather held up by paw, ears springing up in sheltered crack of his space, leather satchel resting between rib and hip. Light his meals as if his body couldn't keep down much food - he couldn't bring himself to stomach everything he forced himself to eat and the recent bout of drinking he'd committed himself to wasn't aiding him in feats of feeding. Shaking his head as he set out, tail flicking behind himself. Who was it that knew a way around a blade?
Paws scaling towards the Circle, would appear cranium over crest, curiousity burdening as discovered came the albino to his gaze. Exhale of breath as he watched for a good portion of time to get a better understanding of the situation before him. Brief the pause as he twisted to check his satchel, heavy the weight of steel within the bottom. This dagger was within itself a crux and a curse, a weight to carry of the past and all of its entanglements within the present. This itself a marking of his servitude to a figure of death, one he still cherished and though sparse its use in these days, he still held it dear. Withdrawing it, he would pad forward with its heavy weight balanced unevenly within his own maw, looking to vincent as he padded close enough to hope the other would catch his scent. He was curious, and wanted to see what he was doing exactly, and had intentions of warming up himself as it had been years since he'd last seen use of it.
Descending slowly with few roots within his maw, deposited within the satchel resting against the foot of the cliffside he had scaled. Perhaps he was most suited for this sort of thing with nimble and thin limbs that allowed him to reach places others couldn't without use of some element or wing. Pushing his head through the loop of leather held up by paw, ears springing up in sheltered crack of his space, leather satchel resting between rib and hip. Light his meals as if his body couldn't keep down much food - he couldn't bring himself to stomach everything he forced himself to eat and the recent bout of drinking he'd committed himself to wasn't aiding him in feats of feeding. Shaking his head as he set out, tail flicking behind himself. Who was it that knew a way around a blade?
Paws scaling towards the Circle, would appear cranium over crest, curiousity burdening as discovered came the albino to his gaze. Exhale of breath as he watched for a good portion of time to get a better understanding of the situation before him. Brief the pause as he twisted to check his satchel, heavy the weight of steel within the bottom. This dagger was within itself a crux and a curse, a weight to carry of the past and all of its entanglements within the present. This itself a marking of his servitude to a figure of death, one he still cherished and though sparse its use in these days, he still held it dear. Withdrawing it, he would pad forward with its heavy weight balanced unevenly within his own maw, looking to vincent as he padded close enough to hope the other would catch his scent. He was curious, and wanted to see what he was doing exactly, and had intentions of warming up himself as it had been years since he'd last seen use of it.
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THE FLOWER BURNS