09-21-2023, 11:40 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-16-2023, 04:13 AM by Beckard. Edited 2 times in total.)
A siren's song that would tempt the lone sailor into precarious waters, the violet blossoms had called him to return again and again in much the same way. A wordless beckoning to the most mysterious place... one that he kept obeying. Each time searching for answers that would never fill his grasp. Sundance Grove, he would recall the white woman say. The words had rolled off her tongue smooth and delicate, devoid of the enigma he had felt was at work there. The wind tasted of autumn's breath. Leaves that had already begun to change danced and crackled against one another as they swayed briefly in the treetops above. However the colors that painted their bodies were lost upon him, the fog quickly flowing in.
A cloud had nestled itself within the valley, blanketing the grove in a thick haze of bright white. It was altogether eerie. Even with the enormity of his body and the strength that resided within those thick muscles, Beck moved about the fog with careful steps. Advancing slowly, he placed one foot in front of the other as soundlessly as he could manage. The thick foliage was moistened with dew, each blade of grass wrapped in a blanket of moisture that clung to his paws. Twirling around him, tendrils of mist moved and danced in a synchronized ballet. It was like a dreamy cocoon, disorienting him from the direction he had came and the one in which he was going. Yet, that disorientation became part of the perceived magic of the grove itself.
The silence was deafening, a faint ringing that hung in his ears as they swiveled and searched for an anchor.
A cloud had nestled itself within the valley, blanketing the grove in a thick haze of bright white. It was altogether eerie. Even with the enormity of his body and the strength that resided within those thick muscles, Beck moved about the fog with careful steps. Advancing slowly, he placed one foot in front of the other as soundlessly as he could manage. The thick foliage was moistened with dew, each blade of grass wrapped in a blanket of moisture that clung to his paws. Twirling around him, tendrils of mist moved and danced in a synchronized ballet. It was like a dreamy cocoon, disorienting him from the direction he had came and the one in which he was going. Yet, that disorientation became part of the perceived magic of the grove itself.
The silence was deafening, a faint ringing that hung in his ears as they swiveled and searched for an anchor.
@Kaida
the staff team luvs u