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Map of Doutaini

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suckle poison from the daffodils
Posted 01-13-2018, 02:42 PM | This post was last modified: 01-13-2018, 02:44 PM by Arkady
Earth Pup
Male, 0.25
35 in, 127 lbs
0 ep
© Sphinx

r e f l e c t i o n this place, he thinks with a snout-wrinkled huff, is unkind to him.
the way in which it all towers over and clutches down at him, each tree and stump and vine cluster a hungry crone snatching down for his sweet flesh with aged and twisted hands - from it all he turns, and, thin legs stumping through the knotted undergrowth, he makes for the temple so as to reside upon solid ground rather than in tangled green sea.

gait brisk and as steady as he can manage, arkady scrambles up into the dilapidated entrance to the temple, that ancient structure in which he finds a queer serenity.
comfort he finds in the work of the ancients, comfort in what can hold his little frame, cradle it above the thorny truth of nature. perhaps this is an early thought of blasphemy, unintended though it may be, against the pack in which he had been born into, and yet he thinks nought of it. his mind, while prodding and prying in the creased-brow curiosity of life as he has experienced it thus far, is yet still bound in the pink pillowcase of childish ignorance. of kaede he has scarcely even thought.

pallid in the green-dappled shadow of the midday, the pale doll crosses slowly to a corner made up of rubble and dry roots snaking up betwixt the floor stones, and, settling with a sigh onto his side, allows his eyes leisurely and scholarly roam of the temple ceiling and all its dimensions. he admires the forgotten skill of its architects and fashioners, adores it in all its cyclopean charm, eerie and regal. primordial are the heavy stones which make it up, flat in some areas whilst others are jagged and broken, devastated by the dutiful hand of mother time.
"o, dear," he quite suddenly announces, voice gentle and yet cutting unto the cricket-embroidered silence. "o, how sad this all is. how sad."
where he lies, face upturned to the destroyed ceiling, the pale light dapples his little muzzle and forehead with milky green, spanning over his breastbone and the small of his back. he shifts his feet and watches a thrush in the branches visible above, mind gone again in thoughts as philosophical as can be a child's of his age.

"quoth he,"
Margeaux Alani if interested <33 but anyone can come

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