05-14-2024, 11:44 PM
Anyone looking for members of the Chamber over the last few years would not have found him, because he did not wish for it. He had taken his time, rebuilding his strength, feeding off of the energies in this evergreen forest. He has not bothered to keep up with crowns changing hands, or the names of anyone that may pass by his hiding spots, but as winter begins to threaten to change to spring, Abrus finds himself in the midst of an awakening.
His curiosity about Beqanna has waxed as well, inspiring him to move out from the depths of the soil and untangle himself from the pine roots that had cocooned him so peacefully along with the remnants of other, less fortunate animals from recent and years long since passed. But instead of the roots burrowing into his bones for the nourishing marrow, he had tapped into them and fed himself from their energies and allowed the life of Beqanna’s forests to seep into his blood.
Did that make him an official resident?
It is late in the afternoon when he emerges. A white-eyed raven watches patiently as the roots roll the earth aside, wooden tendrils pushing at soil and flesh to propel him upwards out of the false-grave he had made for himself. Roots snap as he takes a few tentative steps, some of them falling back into the earth that he carefully weaves back together, while others curl around his body still - wrapping around his legs and chest.
He instantly misses the weight of his antlers and so crafts himself a pair made of bare branches. The raven abandons its perch for this more favoured one - and the pair of them feel the sense of right that washes over them once black talons are gripped tight on antlers once more.
Both of their eyes begin to glow white as Abrus shares his companion’s sight, and the pair turn their heads - wondering what creatures they may be able to wander across today.
His curiosity about Beqanna has waxed as well, inspiring him to move out from the depths of the soil and untangle himself from the pine roots that had cocooned him so peacefully along with the remnants of other, less fortunate animals from recent and years long since passed. But instead of the roots burrowing into his bones for the nourishing marrow, he had tapped into them and fed himself from their energies and allowed the life of Beqanna’s forests to seep into his blood.
Did that make him an official resident?
It is late in the afternoon when he emerges. A white-eyed raven watches patiently as the roots roll the earth aside, wooden tendrils pushing at soil and flesh to propel him upwards out of the false-grave he had made for himself. Roots snap as he takes a few tentative steps, some of them falling back into the earth that he carefully weaves back together, while others curl around his body still - wrapping around his legs and chest.
He instantly misses the weight of his antlers and so crafts himself a pair made of bare branches. The raven abandons its perch for this more favoured one - and the pair of them feel the sense of right that washes over them once black talons are gripped tight on antlers once more.
Both of their eyes begin to glow white as Abrus shares his companion’s sight, and the pair turn their heads - wondering what creatures they may be able to wander across today.
open to any!