Will-O-Wisps

Thread status: open Players involved: Rare, Kokopuffs Characters involved: Koimata, Kavrier Setting: Deep Woodland Time: Nightfall Weather: Cool, clear He hadn't spoken in what felt like ages; there had been little need, since finding his way into the woodlands, chased by the nipping bites of a strong spring shower. Here, where civilization had yet to gain a foothold, he had no need for words, accompanied only by the soft symphony of sounds that came from a pittance of passing moments, waking, living, sleeping; a never-ending pattern that was interrupted only by encountering creatures who had no other interest in him then to determine if he was prey or predator. Even now, his hands were hesitant to touch the throbbing pain, wedged between his ribs like a kink that refused to soothe out; a muscle pulled taunt from his encounter with wolves who thought he might make a tasty morsel. It had long stopped bleeding, had already begun to knit back together, leaving little more than angrily raised bumps against pale skin. A few more days, and it would no longer be a bother at all. And then, he supposed, he'd have to find a new place to wander. There was nothing keeping him here, nothing that whispered to the ache in his chest, a string pulled taut forever tempting his feet into motion. It still pulled, that desire to discover his forgotten past, to find answers in the dark that otherwise laid thick and cloying in his senses, stealing dreams and leaving nothing but to questions with far too few answers. Koimata had encountered others in his self-imposed quest, dragons and wraiths, demons and angels; some seemed to recognize him, taking some strange humor from his presence but offered little when he dared ask why, until he had finally just stopped asking. Drawing his hand away from its soft caress at his side, only to slide it carelessly through his hair, drawing out leaves from monochrome tresses, he made for the lake that stood at the edge of the forest and the adjacent town. Night was well under way, the coolness of the dark stealing away the humidity that clung to his skin, drawing the kitsune from his bed burrowed in betwixt the clutch of grand roots. The dark crept up along the sides of the path, here where the light of the moon could barely pass through dense foilage, drawing soft ruby eyes, until once again he passed his hand forward, sparking orbs of glowing wisps. Watching them bob, a slow smile touched his face, "Hurry along now," he beckoned, casting them out like fae amongst the summer leaves.