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Played by Offline princeley [PM] Posts: 7 — Threads: 2
Signos: 260
Dawn Court Medic
Male [he/him/his] // 10 [Year 493 Winter] // 18 hh // Hth: 8 — Atk: 12 — Exp: 10 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#1

WHAT IT MUST BE LIKE TO BE GENTLE
to reach out and not want to hurt
@Mathias

The word had reached them a week ago via the crowds bustling in and out of Delumine’s library that something strange was afoot … There were goings on that needed to be investigated, and while it is always tempting to stay cooped up with his thoughts, his journals and his lover, Sam would be the first to admit that he could never say no to the possibility of adventure. Besides, it would do them both good to be on the road again, he had thought before they left. He’d never seen his partner so docile before, and truth be told, it was a little unnerving.

For many years, Mattie had been known to many as a spitfire, a villain, a plain old shit disturber, yet now? There seems to be no trace of this. His rigid posture has stuck, as well as his generally sour disposition, but he is somehow less grandiose in the way he chooses to display his frustration, less … Perhaps just less. So Sam had packed whatever he could carry and decided they should follow the others and quest for some long forgotten relic. So far, they had managed to make it out of Delumine and into the wilds as far as … well, if Sam is honest with himself now, he’d been unable to read the map he’d squirreled away for quite sometime now, and it’s starting to get to him. The forest looks exactly the same as it did a mile ago, and he’s starting to wonder if they’re going in circles.

He pauses then, drawing in a deep breath, scenting the air and thanking the gods - just this once - for his preternatural abilities. A cool wind brings with it the scent of water, and where there is water there will be a break in the tree line, which means they will be able to determine where on the gods’ green earth they are. “I’m gonna check this out,” he tosses over his shoulder, ears tilted in his lover’s direction before swiveling eagerly toward what must be a current. (It has to be, god he hopes it is.)








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