YOU'VE GOT COLD, DEAD EYES-
When it rains, it pours. You hadn't minded that much at the beginning, when the air was still hot with the fading evening, and the offering of relief seemed like a gift. The idea you'd made in your head included exploration beneath a canopy of leaves, the sound of rain gently tapping the earth in rhythm, and a dampness laid across your coat that would wash away the sand left embedded in your coat.
Oh, how wrong you were.
Instead, the rain comes with a viciousness that sends you into frustration. The gentle dampness that you had expected has turned into an overwhelming amount of wet, and while it is likely cleansing the sand from your coat in the process, it brings you no happiness. Frustration is currently pulling the muscles in your face rigid, thrusting out an aggravated sigh as your pace picks up into a hurried trot.
This is where we come to view one of your numerous flaws. You have the tendency to dive far too deep into your emotions, to the extent of almost meditation with the seriousness of your attention. You ignore any outer stimuli in favor of your own thoughts, so heavily caught up in things that only relate to yourself to care for anything else. Many of those who have had the opportunity to address it have already taken the effort to ensure that you are aware of it, and in which you are. It is by your own decision, based on pride that encourages ignorance, that you choose to not improve.
It is with that, that you fail to acknowledge the growing density of the trees that you've been hiding in, so heavily focused upon your disdain for this weather. There is never a time where you realize they are, or that the canopy is thickening, that the raining is thinning.
The moment that captures you is when the rain stops altogether, and lays a cool breeze against your wet coat. A feeling, - instinct - grows in the pit of your stomach as you become aware of the fact that you are somewhere, not just anywhere. Walls encircle you with the mouths of hallways spread wide. Discomfort grows.
Where is everyone else?
Surely, a place with walls in this country would attract attention, seeing as you've yet to find the people in any buildings yet. It doesn't bring you relief as you shift your wings to lift them a few inches, pulling them above your shoulders a small amount but never enough to expose your sides to the world. Ears search for anything that mimics yourself, brows tense, and eyes hard as you pull your chin in. One snort, a quick pawing, and you find yourself earning interested, and confused looks from the only companionship available to you. The fox-like creatures work to make you feel as you are the one out of place, acting this way when obviously you've invaded them by your own fault.
No one seems to be coming though, as the discomfort grows to an almost anxiety-inducing level. Standing alone in an open space, you take the option that feels best to you, quickly dipping down a hallway of your choice.
Any anxiety you might've been cultivating now finds itself discarded at the end of said hallway. For you have always loved the stars, fitting them into your earliest memories:
of your earliest memory, your mother a reminder of the nightscape with the stars painted against her, maybe that's why you were so attached to the world's ceiling; of your father, bathed in darkness, and only broken by what you could've believed were eyes broken off from the moon; of Roland, who taught you how to fly, who's skin was so frail against sunlight that she rarely left the Temple beneath the glow of day, who taught you how to map the stars.
Therefore, it shouldn't be much surprise that you are as excited as you are to find a place to learn again, a quick gasp of excitement fleeing from your lips as the last tuft of hair on your braided tail curls over, and flickers in childish amusement. At last, something worth enjoying.
It only further adds in your good mood as you're fast to find the pillows. It's been far too long since a proper bed, or at least something akin to the comforts you'd grown accustomed to. And after some time spent dragging them about as you please, either by a telekinetic tug, or by a determined grip with teeth, desperate for pleasure once more.
Having at last approved of your makeshift bed, you toss yourself into it, and begin the steady process of removing the braid from your tail.
@any / speaks / a softer theme to this thread, come enjoy yourself!
