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 Posted: Tue Nov 09, 2010 8:44 pm
It was a quiet night. The only signs of life in the wooded forest, besides the chirping crickets and the occasional stirring of the grass from a small predator on the prowl, was the white Krokotas winding slowly through the trees. He had long since left the Dark Forest, as he had called it, where the trees were so tall they blocked out all light. These woods were far younger, bushes and grasses grew on the ground in patches where the light broke through, and small animals were abundant, during the day at least. At night, things were far more lonesome, which was more to False Self’s liking.
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Posted: Tue Nov 09, 2010 8:46 pm
His steps were slow and deliberate. His belly was full, he was not tired, and he had nowhere in particular to go, so he made his way at his own pace. Besides, traveling quickly attracted attention, and he thought it best to avoid any other wandering Krokotas such as himself. After all, it was a pack he was in search of, not another lost and lonely soul with which to commiserate. He had come across enough of them to know to stay away.
Besides, they all greeted him pretty much the same way: he smelled funny, he acted funny, and those odd markings on his body…was he a Rogue!? The inks in his tattoos looked dark against his warm skin. Not a stark contrast, to be sure, but noticeable enough to all the half-wits he’d encountered.
No, he wasn’t a Rogue. At least, he didn’t think he was. He’d never come across them, never even heard of them until he was accused of being one. But the fear with which the other Krokotas treated him when they suspected he was one...he assumed being a Rogue was quite unpleasant, and though he was no pile of sunshine and butterflies, he assumed he wasn’t one.
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Posted: Fri Nov 12, 2010 7:22 am
It was a moonless night. The darkness was all encompassing, though False Self hardly noticed. He was guided mostly by his sense of touch, his tongue dragging on the ground, feeling his surroundings.
((tbc))
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