Agramón
Member
- Messages
- 2
The forest of The Spine felt like a mystical place once one finally set foot over its ancient roots. The air danced between the trees, carrying with them stories of renewal for those who were able to listen. The chill of winter had begun to creep in, but as if in defiance the plants had managed to bloom. The canopy, colors of autumn, seemed completely out of place with the yellow and white bulbs that sprung out closer to the forest floor. It was peculiar how this expression of life didn't come with the usual smell of pollen, and Agramón found himself wondering whether there was another phenomenon which caused the air to be so clean of dust and particles, or if the flowers had simply developed a different way in which to breed.
Against his back were his two blades, each vastly different from one another and looking as though they'd boast different styles. Most people who understood how such weapons operated would assume a single warrior with multiple fighting styles; To correctly predict that both would be used would be quite an amazing jump of conclusions, though they would be right in their folly. His clothes were no different than they always appeared, and while the color and patterns of the cloth would vary, the design was always fairly similar. Today he had on what he was most often known for; The white garbs, accented in various shades of purple. He noticed that a sizeable number of bugs had approached him, testing the bright colors for nutrients before flying away in disappointment. Perhaps that was how the flowers survived, rather than filling the air?
Tilting his head upwards, he stared at the thick dome of leaves overhead. Enough light had made it all the way through such that he could understand it was around midday, the sun having likely just passed its apex, and there were shadows cast by random trees and bushes. To say the woods were dark would be a lie, though he could only imagine the pitch of night in such a place. Continuing forward, the cooled wind licking at his face and hair, he proceeded in an almost unnatural silence. He did not speak or hum, and did not seem to be lost in thought. Rather, he seemed completely engaged in the world around him. The birds that flew overhead, the tiny woodland animals that ran to and fro, the crunching in the distance that would likely be related to herbivores keeping clear of this strange creature in their land. After all, he had strayed well away from the well beaten path, instead choosing to explore the woods for what they were.
What he found was a beautiful escape from the world around him. Much of his time had been spent in Alliria, meeting people of different backgrounds who sported varying aspirations, but all tremendously determined in their own way. There was something interesting with mortals and their ability to be so immensely disconnected with the stories around them. Each person he had met was like the star of their own story, an epic that only they truly knew. Getting to know them, and allowing himself to sink in the stories they told, allowed him to constantly experience something new. In a way, it also helped him to better understand mortals and their ambitions.
At least, he thought so.
Yet this was clearly something he had not spent enough time appreciating, that much he had decided upon just moments ago. Lifting his fingers up and running it gently through the still green leaves of yet another bush in bloom, he wondered at the coolness of the leaves and the velvet of the flowers, and he felt himself smile. Arethill was far too expansive for him to ever full cover, or fully explore. He smiled, though he seemed to no longer be gazing at the imagery in front of him. Instead his sight was set somewhere else, somewhere far off. His life would never truly get boring, that much at least he was sure of.
Against his back were his two blades, each vastly different from one another and looking as though they'd boast different styles. Most people who understood how such weapons operated would assume a single warrior with multiple fighting styles; To correctly predict that both would be used would be quite an amazing jump of conclusions, though they would be right in their folly. His clothes were no different than they always appeared, and while the color and patterns of the cloth would vary, the design was always fairly similar. Today he had on what he was most often known for; The white garbs, accented in various shades of purple. He noticed that a sizeable number of bugs had approached him, testing the bright colors for nutrients before flying away in disappointment. Perhaps that was how the flowers survived, rather than filling the air?
Tilting his head upwards, he stared at the thick dome of leaves overhead. Enough light had made it all the way through such that he could understand it was around midday, the sun having likely just passed its apex, and there were shadows cast by random trees and bushes. To say the woods were dark would be a lie, though he could only imagine the pitch of night in such a place. Continuing forward, the cooled wind licking at his face and hair, he proceeded in an almost unnatural silence. He did not speak or hum, and did not seem to be lost in thought. Rather, he seemed completely engaged in the world around him. The birds that flew overhead, the tiny woodland animals that ran to and fro, the crunching in the distance that would likely be related to herbivores keeping clear of this strange creature in their land. After all, he had strayed well away from the well beaten path, instead choosing to explore the woods for what they were.
What he found was a beautiful escape from the world around him. Much of his time had been spent in Alliria, meeting people of different backgrounds who sported varying aspirations, but all tremendously determined in their own way. There was something interesting with mortals and their ability to be so immensely disconnected with the stories around them. Each person he had met was like the star of their own story, an epic that only they truly knew. Getting to know them, and allowing himself to sink in the stories they told, allowed him to constantly experience something new. In a way, it also helped him to better understand mortals and their ambitions.
At least, he thought so.
Yet this was clearly something he had not spent enough time appreciating, that much he had decided upon just moments ago. Lifting his fingers up and running it gently through the still green leaves of yet another bush in bloom, he wondered at the coolness of the leaves and the velvet of the flowers, and he felt himself smile. Arethill was far too expansive for him to ever full cover, or fully explore. He smiled, though he seemed to no longer be gazing at the imagery in front of him. Instead his sight was set somewhere else, somewhere far off. His life would never truly get boring, that much at least he was sure of.
