As tended to be the case with Folbran, by the time he realized he had gone out for a walk, he found himself halfway through it, with the rest of the morning a blur behind him and the day in front of him open like a blank canvas.

Exactly what in walking appeals to Folbran so much isn't quite clear to him, but nothing can keep him from it, not hell nor high water (Though that would be swim, wouldn't it?). On the surface, it could simply write itself off as an excessive amount of energy that was present in all children, Folbran especially. Sitting still is impossible for him, he's always fidgeting, bouncing his knee, or tapping his foot in beat with some unheard melody that's all the same rhythmic. He can't help it, when he isn't out expending breath, he felt like heat was building up, dancing under his skin like a million little sparks from lit fuses. Vim and vigor, Geraldt always called it. The constant need to keep moving does keep his wiry figure well in shape, and that satisfied Folbran on some deeper level.

It could also be his love for being out and about on wonderful, warm summer days like the one he finds himself in currently. The sun shines bright and strong out of the clear blue sky, and the air all about is thick with the haze of heat. Something about soaking up the sun's rays is invigorating to Folbran, almost cleansing. Because of the heat, Folbran has eschewed his scarf and wristbands, and has elected instead to wear his silk vest and loose silk breeches rather than his normal cotton garb. Even though it's dark, the outfit is wonderfully cool, and Folbran loves the way the sun plays on folds of the material, glinting slightly.

If only he could love how the rest of the day was going.

In the before-mentioned blur of morning, Folbran could remember being kicked out by a frustrated Geraldt, and that made him grumpy. “You're getting to be a big kid, Folbran, I can't spend my time baby-sitting you. Why don't you go out and do summer things, like kids are supposed to do?” When he'd stated that he had no clue what to do and no clue who to do it with, Geraldt had thrown up his hands and said, “Build a fort, for all I care! Just get out!” And though it did upset Folbran, he didn't hold it against Geraldt, because he knew that his surrogate guardian who wasn't quite a brother and wasn't quite a father was growing older himself, and teenagers have no time to watch over younger people.

And just like that, Folbran found himself walking to who-knows-where, probably somewhere in town. Maybe he'd find his way to the beach and watch the waves roll in and out, build a sandcastle or something.