As sundown had wangled the horizon, overlaying in its darksome hues whilst shrouding the provinces in bare murkiness, the paradoxes had stirred out of their eldritch trenches. And the whistling breeze that had tootled for Revenant's name made his lobes prick at the murmuring sensation that he had identified even in the abysms of his slumber. It was too thorough to not stir and hoist his cranium, crack open his phantasmal irises and nab them on the posterior of his mate, resting in all her resplendence in the luminous beams of the moon, wallowing in its bestowing glares bequeathed by the deities overseeing above.

She was a resolute workhorse, who believed love was a mirage, that promised bliss in the distance but left you parched in a desert of dissatisfaction. This had brought her to exist as a remorseless spirit, preserving her glee clutched in the profundities of her heart, disinclined to not open even to her closest peers. But to Revenant that was the pinnacle of his intent, pursue into the gates of her heart and unbar the deadlock with forbearance and commitment. Letting her discover, he was there, hunting after her all along.

''.. Not again.. '' her voice was like a tipped pebble riddling into the fleshy part of his mitt, persuading him to stiffen in his foothold, all goggle-eyed. Which just befell into an amiable, sort of, graceless sneer once her response had descended deep in the barricades of his gut. Making him realize, that Tebori had discerned the continuous disappearances whenever the current had gotten more hectic. ''.. Touching..you catch on fast.. '' he drawled out, encroaching from beside her as the moonbeams just then smeared across his dishevelled face, underlining his fiendish and uncanny features.

However, after his comment, there was no response after, just raw stillness overstretching across their cove and the far-fetched fringes of the campground, proving that this was the end of their concise conversation. And Revenant was not too keen to root out any more statements out of her, he had more consequential itches to alleviate. Another gusty nightfall to explore and bide within the tides of the breeze, let his spirit strive for solace and consolation in such formidable weather.

And if Tebori had not rooted her foot to halt his withdrawal, he meandered without another utter drawn from his throat, just dissolving into the nightfall encasing his coat as it harboured his pungent brutish odour back into their makeshift cavern.

The sun fell beneath the horizon in luminescent laps of hue, strings of yellow and blue shrimply being replaced by the darkness of the night sky. The stars soon revealed themselves, followed by the oranged spots floating around, landing between the trees and under the crisped fallen leaves. They landed where they weren't in fact needed, a vexation to whoever was close. The breeze took them away, avoid of Armina and her slumber.

The frosted breeze raked through the faes sparced cost, slowly waking her from her comforted sleep. One torn ear pinned back, the other perked and alerted to her surrounding. Her clan was already moving. She could sense their steps, their breaths. Their ear ringing wines and complaints, the way their pointed claws hit the stone beneath them. It pained her, but not as much as the stiffness that pulled her joints, true evening chill penetrating her coat and making its way through her bones. The bright ireses revealed themselves, only to close again, her throat rattling as the fae attempted to refresh herself.

It seemed that the whole eve passed before the pitiful she managed to raise herself, only to lumber herself away from the rattle of the dens, to a clearing that she knew herself to be guarded. The simple worry she had was to be trampled by a brutish looking buck. Her grey pelt blended in calmly with the purple and iridescent snow drops, keeping Armina hidden as she talked through the grass, the underside of her pathetic like body skimming the solid ground, picking up clusters of dirt as her muzzle stuck to the ground, careful not to come across the terrifying spotted beetles that crawled through the thick grass.

It was unclear on what she may have been looking for. Her attention needed to be taken, so she could focus on anything other than healing wounds. The silance of the field comforted her, but the itch to achieve was too strong for her to ignore. She refused to sit and simper for her pitiful vessel, but she'd be valid to hunt. To entertain herself in any means necessary.

Many nights were spent this was, it proved. Armina I would hide from the rest of her clan; hunt, hide, what else could one such as herself possibly do? The fae had no responsibilities, other then keeping herself fed she had nothing to fill her need of achivement with. She would plot and scheme, but in truth nothing would come out of that iridescence.

in the depths of the blood-curling night, the warlock's silhouette hewn in the outlines of groves hounded like a tormented spirit needling the haunted woodland for deliverance in the resonance of its stirring past. he was rather transient in his foothold, nimble-footed and ceaseless in sprinting past the rotten trunks, twirled, gnarly roots and embedded boulders buried with a moss blanket that provided the directions of how to flee this abundant woodland for a wayfarer. though that was not what the warlock was desiring. in the alcoves and notches, glutted with clusters of dangers emerging from time to time, bode the warlock, in all of his metaphysical, tenebrous grace. letting the moonbeams plunge into his viscous coat, into the slouchy mane that bristled by the rhythms of the whistling breeze.

stood atop the molten, grounded boulderstone that pointed its pointiest fringe at the welkin, the warlock had breathed out his remorses and apprehensions. consoling his heart at the embrace of the current wash at his face, rippling the overgrown beard on his chin and the rest of his darksome stature. weighing off the millstone that tore and pinned him into the grounds of mother earth, stemming him from moving voluntarily. but this time, was like no other. this was liberating his spirit and his muscles, slackening the binds that grinded at his forelimbs, easing the strain that nibbled at the feathering of his anklebones.

with lidded irises, the planet swallowing him was withered as the murkiness cocooned him and the tattles of the draft muttered the reassurances he needed to feel.

he was ensured of the safeness the breeze provided, he was denuded but vigilant nonetheless, conscious of this domain and conscious of the establishment he abided in. he was still in the domain of his clan but near the border of the foes they established by. but as long as the warlock dwelt on the side of where was supposed to, he had not twirled his crania too earnestly with that, just relished in the freshness of the twilight.