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haunt this eclipse - Torben - 5/9/2025
Skill:
![[Image: dg0rdbk-27b1f87f-08bc-4a0a-9af6-c9bf7c6c...QjlKzVQY-0]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/b6bd577f-dd3d-47c7-bbef-8edd89e3b07f/dg0rdbk-27b1f87f-08bc-4a0a-9af6-c9bf7c6c8a9f.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2I2YmQ1NzdmLWRkM2QtNDdjNy1iYmVmLThlZGQ4OWUzYjA3ZlwvZGcwcmRiay0yN2IxZjg3Zi0wOGJjLTRhMGEtOWFmNi1jOWJmN2M2YzhhOWYucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.uJQpTWpmZ8aDQRVTuh2Lo2gBt5LNgneF4QjlKzVQY-0)
The softness of his breath broke the silence of his sleep. Ominous quietude lingered, and all he could hear was the rattled inhale of wind as it rushed into his nostrils. Strange. Something had pulled him from his slumber — something urgent. But the air that greeted him smelled suddenly unfamiliar. The warm, herbal scent of his siblings had all but disappeared.
Torben would lift his head, realizing that he was no longer in a den ... but instead in a hazy field. Thick, rolling fog obscured his vision, making it nearly impossible for him to see much beyond his own nose. It appeared as nothing more than a strange labyrinth, abnormalities clouding every sense and leaving him feeling ...
... lost.
The large male would pull himself upward, cinnamon eyes peering toward an impossibly black sky. A pitter patter of panic paddled around in the base of his chest, rising to a tightness in his throat as he dared to croak:
Sage?Silence persisted, heavy and haunting.
Alti?His words were absorbed by the dense fog.
A dream.
It had to be a dream, right?
The bear would push forward a few steps, swishing through the tall grass and feeling the chill of the midnight dew against his skin. Darkness swallowed him, leaving him impossibly lost in what he could only presume was an eerie dreamscape.
RE: haunt this eclipse - Fable - 5/9/2025
![[Image: Viv_FablePost.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Viv_FablePost.gif)
SKILL : SEER ( 1 / 5 )
She did not travel so far, typically.
The idea of putting space, let alone days' worth, between herself and her three remaining children was something she struggled to swallow. However, Fable knew it was something she would have to confront one day - the girls could elect to leave when they reached adulthood, seeking to cut their teeth on the world of their own making, or maybe they would even find someone whose heart spoke to their own and they would lead them away from their warm and welcoming nest. Away from her.
But today, it was not them leaving, but herself. She was browsing the nearby territories to survey the damage left behind by the encroaching maladies - Elysium's water had gone bad, evidenced by both the young couple whose children were born on her soil and the burned wolf she found at Howling River. Shiloh, too, had told her about runes and it stirred a thought within the depths of her mind; there were the strange standing stones in Druid's Rise, and although it was a few days' travel from the Meadows, she wanted to visit them. Perhaps there would be answers or some sign of something she could decipher - and if not herself, perhaps her mother. Epona spoke the language of magic more fluently than she could, but she knew in her heart she needed to at least try before the darkness threatening Mythris descended on her own territory and affected those closest to her.
She could not ask Epona to travel with her, nor the children - it was too dangerous. If some harm were to befall her, there were many within Avon who would swoop in to bolster them just as she would have. A part of Fable insisted that, among them all, she was perhaps one of the more disposable. She felt she had done a fair hand at uniting everyone beneath the Kingdom's banner, but her skillset as a wolf served them all little.
If a few days away from home could offer her solace or warning, she would gladly take it - even with the risk to herself.
She had not anticipated the fog, however.
It descended like a thick and rolling quilt, heavy in her nose and lungs as she navigated its abyss. She could see almost nothing and no scents carried to her, washed away by the pale shroud's humidity. For all intents and purposes, Fable was blind and explored the world by touch. Her paws were the only sense that signaled the change in terrain, the passage of territories. The colorful forest was well at her back and now she was somewhere open, a meadow - could it be the meadow southwest of the Glade? They had passed through on their way to the Blushed Meadows, but she could tell nothing concrete while blindfolded.
All the same, she furtively scanned her surroundings in search of a sign of anything, rune or otherwise. It was then a voice reached her and she halted, standing stock-still.
The idea of putting space, let alone days' worth, between herself and her three remaining children was something she struggled to swallow. However, Fable knew it was something she would have to confront one day - the girls could elect to leave when they reached adulthood, seeking to cut their teeth on the world of their own making, or maybe they would even find someone whose heart spoke to their own and they would lead them away from their warm and welcoming nest. Away from her.
But today, it was not them leaving, but herself. She was browsing the nearby territories to survey the damage left behind by the encroaching maladies - Elysium's water had gone bad, evidenced by both the young couple whose children were born on her soil and the burned wolf she found at Howling River. Shiloh, too, had told her about runes and it stirred a thought within the depths of her mind; there were the strange standing stones in Druid's Rise, and although it was a few days' travel from the Meadows, she wanted to visit them. Perhaps there would be answers or some sign of something she could decipher - and if not herself, perhaps her mother. Epona spoke the language of magic more fluently than she could, but she knew in her heart she needed to at least try before the darkness threatening Mythris descended on her own territory and affected those closest to her.
She could not ask Epona to travel with her, nor the children - it was too dangerous. If some harm were to befall her, there were many within Avon who would swoop in to bolster them just as she would have. A part of Fable insisted that, among them all, she was perhaps one of the more disposable. She felt she had done a fair hand at uniting everyone beneath the Kingdom's banner, but her skillset as a wolf served them all little.
If a few days away from home could offer her solace or warning, she would gladly take it - even with the risk to herself.
She had not anticipated the fog, however.
It descended like a thick and rolling quilt, heavy in her nose and lungs as she navigated its abyss. She could see almost nothing and no scents carried to her, washed away by the pale shroud's humidity. For all intents and purposes, Fable was blind and explored the world by touch. Her paws were the only sense that signaled the change in terrain, the passage of territories. The colorful forest was well at her back and now she was somewhere open, a meadow - could it be the meadow southwest of the Glade? They had passed through on their way to the Blushed Meadows, but she could tell nothing concrete while blindfolded.
All the same, she furtively scanned her surroundings in search of a sign of anything, rune or otherwise. It was then a voice reached her and she halted, standing stock-still.
Who's there?she called out, maintaining her space. Fable's eyes trained in the direction the distant - or had it only been hushed? - voice came from, or at least the direction she thought it originated from.
RE: haunt this eclipse - Torben - 5/9/2025
Skill:
The silence continued to absorb him.
Even as he walked.
His pawsteps met hollowness.
Panic began to rise, burning in the pit of his chest and searing his throat as he walked aimlessly through the forgotten field. His pawsteps were heavy, and on purpose. He wanted to scour this landscape and forget it ever existed, daring to pop the ruse. Yes, he wanted to make his presence known — and on purpose.
Maybe it would wake him up.
But instead of being awoken, all he heard was a voice. "Who's there?" It called to him with ethereal softness, luring him closer to an eternal end. An end. Oh gods, was this it? Was this the end? Oh, but that voice was so sweet. So sickly, sickly sweet. And somehow, with that sweet voice came the scent of lavender and honey. And he nearly choked on the air.
For a dream, this sure smelt real.
Sage?He called her name, softly questioning it into the air.
It's ...he paused a moment, hesitating. It felt like falling into the deep. And yet ...
... it's me. Torben.He would take a few wavering steps forward, pressing into the dreamscape further as if to challenge it. And then he softened, his body hiccuping against the decrescendo. And he faltered. A frown found his lips as his cinnamon gaze turned toward the earth.
You're not Sage ... are you?
The mist would engulf him.
RE: haunt this eclipse - narrator - 5/11/2025
Rune Discovery : 「 Partial failure; bonus unlocked for increased chance of success in the next thread these characters post 」
The fog was oppressive, even stifling. What was more interesting was that upon entering this area, you begin to feel almost... sour. Perhaps it was simply an odd mood swing, but as you venture further into the woodlands, your disposition seems to take an even sharper decline as a displaced sense of ire lingers about your mind like the fog outside of it.
You are still able to distance yourself from the feeling, gradually recognizing it to be happening without any input from yourself or your surroundings, and as you force yourself to engage in this utterly asinine (wait, why are you calling it asinine?) exchange of words with a stranger, a clipped voice breaks through the barrier of your mind.
It sounds... disappointed. What business did this disembodied fellow have sounding so cross? Your temper rises.
Ah, there it was. The words morphed into something you could understand, and now you're even more agitated because of it.
Its tone is softer now.
The voice fades, extricating itself from the confines of your now-aching head as you realize the sheer volume of space it had occupied.
Exchange your pleasantries, but do not give up the hunt.
You are still able to distance yourself from the feeling, gradually recognizing it to be happening without any input from yourself or your surroundings, and as you force yourself to engage in this utterly asinine (wait, why are you calling it asinine?) exchange of words with a stranger, a clipped voice breaks through the barrier of your mind.
Yia ere wakind kina.
It sounds... disappointed. What business did this disembodied fellow have sounding so cross? Your temper rises.
You are wasting time.
Ah, there it was. The words morphed into something you could understand, and now you're even more agitated because of it.
Ir... kirhakal yia cialk wirk togedrir. Fira. Fira, mabe drial wa... mabe drial wa.
Its tone is softer now.
Or... perhaps you could work together. Yes. Yes, maybe this way... maybe this way.
The voice fades, extricating itself from the confines of your now-aching head as you realize the sheer volume of space it had occupied.
Exchange your pleasantries, but do not give up the hunt.
RE: haunt this eclipse - Fable - 5/15/2025
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
Silence loomed as she remained still, ears attentive and her gaze beseeching her surroundings for something, anything. Sometimes, as her eyes strained, she thought she could see the shape of a figure before it's swept away by the next current of rolling fog. The tide of her own breathing was her only companion, at least until a name rose to the air.
She tips her head in the voice's direction, recognizing neither the voice nor the name. It is not her name, nor anyone she knows; for some reason, the thought stirs a tinge of frustration. Truly, it was not that she expected to find anyone she knew within the misted meadow, but this moment seemed intentional in some type of way - as if she was supposed to be here. Whatever hands were responsible for the loom in which her life was woven had carefully chosen to place her here, she was certain. Deciding to shelve her uncharacteristic annoyance and replace it with objectivity, she dials her focus in on the voice.
Words both foreign and known all at once pervaded the space within her mind. She heard them like her inner monologue, but this voice commanded a larger mass - where her own thoughts might be a drop in the ocean, this entity is the undertow itself. It is stormy, agitated with her.
Fable's paws halted and her ears flicked back, pressed to her crown as her brows furrow. Both confused and affronted by the brusque nature of the voice, her brain whirred into action attempting to understand what is transpiring. Just as her neurons fire to quip back, its cadence softens.
It changed plans. All at once, the hands had plucked the row of threads they just woven in favor of a new pattern.
Purpose sizzled within Fable's veins as the voice recedes, drawn from her like passing breath. She retains a vague ache to remember the voice by, but she blinks through the pain as she continues forward.
Her next stride delivered her into his sphere and she almost walked right into him, a feat narrowly avoided as she slammed on the brakes and leaned back on her willowy limbs.
She could see little by was of definitive features in the low light and poor visibility, but if he was ambulatory, that was a good sign. Fable hadn't had to mend wounds without being able to see what she was doing, but she would give it a go if it was the only option. Fable did not know how or why, but she knew it was important that she connect with this soul in the sea of fog.
She tips her head in the voice's direction, recognizing neither the voice nor the name. It is not her name, nor anyone she knows; for some reason, the thought stirs a tinge of frustration. Truly, it was not that she expected to find anyone she knew within the misted meadow, but this moment seemed intentional in some type of way - as if she was supposed to be here. Whatever hands were responsible for the loom in which her life was woven had carefully chosen to place her here, she was certain. Deciding to shelve her uncharacteristic annoyance and replace it with objectivity, she dials her focus in on the voice.
Not Sage,Fable returned as she began to move forward, each step slow and deliberate. Her ears pivoted to pick up as much sound as possible, trying to locate the source.
Words both foreign and known all at once pervaded the space within her mind. She heard them like her inner monologue, but this voice commanded a larger mass - where her own thoughts might be a drop in the ocean, this entity is the undertow itself. It is stormy, agitated with her.
Fable's paws halted and her ears flicked back, pressed to her crown as her brows furrow. Both confused and affronted by the brusque nature of the voice, her brain whirred into action attempting to understand what is transpiring. Just as her neurons fire to quip back, its cadence softens.
It changed plans. All at once, the hands had plucked the row of threads they just woven in favor of a new pattern.
Purpose sizzled within Fable's veins as the voice recedes, drawn from her like passing breath. She retains a vague ache to remember the voice by, but she blinks through the pain as she continues forward.
Torben,Fable echoed, raising her voice in hopes it will carry.
Perhaps I can help ye find them.
Her next stride delivered her into his sphere and she almost walked right into him, a feat narrowly avoided as she slammed on the brakes and leaned back on her willowy limbs.
Ah- I did not see ye,she apologized, expression sheepish before she relaxed her frame and a more personable visage took hold. He had been hidden behind a veil of mist and it had chosen the last possible moment to lift - at least it had done so before she made a fool of herself and sent them both for a tumble.
Are ye lost? Injured?
She could see little by was of definitive features in the low light and poor visibility, but if he was ambulatory, that was a good sign. Fable hadn't had to mend wounds without being able to see what she was doing, but she would give it a go if it was the only option. Fable did not know how or why, but she knew it was important that she connect with this soul in the sea of fog.
RE: haunt this eclipse - Torben - 5/16/2025
Skill:
Everything became overwhelming as his sensory deprivation began to play at his emotions. He felt on edge, heightened in his anxiety and confusion as his cinnamon gaze attempted to pierce through the overwhelming darkness. There was a voice — no, voices. They slithered toward him from the shadows, and he felt helpless and agitated as he attempted to find the source of the sounds.
But it was all mist and shadow.
“Not sage,” said one, and another voice seemed to reply to it with foreign prattle. “You are wasting time.” The two spoke in tandem, lighting up the silence with the static of cacophony.
Alright, it isn’t funny,he hummed, taking a few steps backward and feeling the mist slither up the back of his legs. The fur along his hackles rose, his ears pressing forward as his tail lashed behind him, as if he had any chance of slicing through the poor visibility.
“Torben.”
His skin was crawling, his nostrils choking on the mist.
When was he going to wake up?
And then, from the shadows, he saw her. Before long, she was basically on top of him, the heat of her skin radiating close to his chest. For a creature of nightmares, she certainly … was beautiful. He could feel the pounding of his heart (perhaps she could, too, with how close she was), his eyes widening as he simply stared at her. Her, this strange, otherworldly being that his unconscious mind had conjured. This Maiden of the Mist. And she wanted to help him.
Sure she did. (As if he didn’t know how horror worked.)
Listen, I’ve realized it’s a dream,he announced loudly, as if speaking it beyond her and into the background. Perhaps if he acknowledged it out loud, he would wake back up.
I’ve realized I’m quite creative, and I’d like to … wake up.And he waited, hearing his voice for a moment before it was eaten by the silence.
He didn’t wake up.
Alright,he continued, hushing his voice as he turned his gaze toward the Beautiful Nightmare.
Hit me or something, would you? That may jolt me awake.Was he frantic? Was he sounding desperate? Perhaps he was — he wanted out of this stubborn, stupid dream.
RE: haunt this eclipse - Fable - 5/22/2025
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
There was no waking up upon this plane. If there was, she was certain she would have done so herself long before now.
Her last memory of the world before had been ensconced in birdsong and mid-afternoon sunshine, wildflowers her grateful mattress as she thumbed through the book of fables she had read many times over the course of her life. She had never tired of it, but its yellowing pages were scorched into her brain even now, nearly two years after she had left the world before. It would have almost been a kindness if she were to wake up, but there would be great loss in the face of such a fate, too.
She had created a family here, in shambles though it may be, but it would open a gargantuan void if she were to awaken one day and know her daughters, friends, Fox were nothing but specters wrought from neural synapses and fancy.
Fable was grateful she had at least not crashed into Mythris' newest inhabitant, though her heart thundered with the spur of adrenaline the near-collision provided.
She armed herself with a smile she hoped came across as amicable, if placating, as she settled her weight evenly across her paws once more, lest she trip herself over them in her effort to stay upright.
A dream, he thought this was - a consideration he provided at high volume.
In all her days, she didn't think she ever recalled someone asking the healer to hurt them.
Quickly, she reined her visage in, smoothing it with a few rapid blinks.
She pressed forward a half-step, reaching her muzzle forward to tap it against his shoulder - fleeting, but real.
If it had only been her who heard the spirit, she was well aware she'd seem quite mad.
Her last memory of the world before had been ensconced in birdsong and mid-afternoon sunshine, wildflowers her grateful mattress as she thumbed through the book of fables she had read many times over the course of her life. She had never tired of it, but its yellowing pages were scorched into her brain even now, nearly two years after she had left the world before. It would have almost been a kindness if she were to wake up, but there would be great loss in the face of such a fate, too.
She had created a family here, in shambles though it may be, but it would open a gargantuan void if she were to awaken one day and know her daughters, friends, Fox were nothing but specters wrought from neural synapses and fancy.
Fable was grateful she had at least not crashed into Mythris' newest inhabitant, though her heart thundered with the spur of adrenaline the near-collision provided.
She armed herself with a smile she hoped came across as amicable, if placating, as she settled her weight evenly across her paws once more, lest she trip herself over them in her effort to stay upright.
A dream, he thought this was - a consideration he provided at high volume.
I thought that, too, at one time,Fable offered, not unkindly. Her voice was woven in soothing tones, the sort she'd harness with an ailing patient. She was taken aback when he asked her to hit him and her eyes widened with alarm she hadn't managed to mitigate before it found itself etched into her expression.
In all her days, she didn't think she ever recalled someone asking the healer to hurt them.
Quickly, she reined her visage in, smoothing it with a few rapid blinks.
Ye are awake,Fable told him, the words quiet - as though she spoke to a child frightened of the shadows slanting across their bedroom wall in the dead of night. Perhaps the two were not so different - this scared man amid the mist.
We both are - no matter if I hit ye or not... which I will not do. A healer should not be out floggin' th' populace.
She pressed forward a half-step, reaching her muzzle forward to tap it against his shoulder - fleeting, but real.
Ye are in Mythris - an' it seem th' spirits have somewhere for us t'go,Fable added as her head retreated back into her own space, gaze fastening to his.
Did ye hear it? Th' voice?
If it had only been her who heard the spirit, she was well aware she'd seem quite mad.
RE: haunt this eclipse - Torben - 5/24/2025
Skill:
She hovered near to him, perhaps near enough to feel the rugged thrum of his heart in his chest. If it hadn't been clear enough that he was on the verge of losing it, the soft, half-frantic puffing of his breath would have clued her in more definitively.
His eyes turned, meeting her soft, emerald gaze.
"I thought that, too, at one time," she would start, and he would welcome the way her voice broke the heft of the silence. But he only continued to stare, slowly and meticulously processing whatever it was that was happening to him. He had so many questions. "Ye are awake," she'd continue, reminding him that he was present here. Wherever here was.
What?It crawled from his lips, a useless word that tried to summarize the amassing of feelings that welled within him.
If this was a dream, then where were the rest of them?
Or was he ... were they ... ?
A soft nose met his shoulder. A warmth spread from the point of contact, radiating along the side of his neck as he swallowed and slowed his breathing. Behind his gaze, however, there was still the thrum of anxiety, a radiating insecurity as he tried to rapidly process everything that was happening. Her. This mist. That voice. Mythris.
This doesn't make any sense,she conceded quietly, deflating as his ears pulled flat against his head.
I'm sorry, but, who are you, exactly?He continued, holding her gaze for a moment before shifting his eyes toward the dark, misted field around them. He would squint into the Stygian abyss ... and he knew there was another one, for that voice certainly did not belong to the one who stood before him.
I heard it ...he assured her, still gazing toward the empty expanse that held them. It felt like being trapped in a bubble.
Like there was no one else but them.
And that voice.
That wasn't your friend, then, I take it? Or some ... dream ... beast?His head would swivel, eyes catching hers again. A weak smile would pull at his lips, but quickly deflate back into a wary frown.
RE: haunt this eclipse - Fable - 6/3/2025
SKILL : - - - ( 1 / 5 )
She recognized the panic.
Slowly, in trickling grains of sand, he was processing his new reality - a reality he attempted to shirk in favor of the comfortable and false narrative that this was all a dream, a mere illusion cast from brain activity and nothing else.
Her ears cupped forward as he indicated he, too, had heard the voice. Then it was not just her, and it remained just as unknown to him as it had been to her.
She considered for a moment telling him the world was actively being torn asunder as she explained the purpose of the voice, but thought better of it - if she told him death lurked in any given corner, he might have a heart attack on the spot or run straight into the hands of whatever waged war on the inhabitants of Mythris.
It was more than that, of course - it was a found family, a close-knit unit that operated for the love of it all rather than the sole purpose of survival. Fable risked her own bodily harm to find answers not because she wanted to live through this time of uncertainty, but because she wanted everyone else to do so as well.
Alone and unfamiliar with Mythris could be a deadly combination.
Slowly, in trickling grains of sand, he was processing his new reality - a reality he attempted to shirk in favor of the comfortable and false narrative that this was all a dream, a mere illusion cast from brain activity and nothing else.
No, it doesn't,Fable agreed, her tone bearing the some maternal edge she used with her daughters when they made the unfortunate discovery that not all went according to plan.
I am Fable Goldencourte-it still felt strange that her surname was back to its original setting, but the recognition of that passed as quickly as the thought-
Matriarch o' th' Kingdom o' Avon t'th' west o' here.
Her ears cupped forward as he indicated he, too, had heard the voice. Then it was not just her, and it remained just as unknown to him as it had been to her.
She considered for a moment telling him the world was actively being torn asunder as she explained the purpose of the voice, but thought better of it - if she told him death lurked in any given corner, he might have a heart attack on the spot or run straight into the hands of whatever waged war on the inhabitants of Mythris.
It was not m'friend, no,Fable offered instead.
But we should listen t' it. I am searching for answers an' am on m'way t' Druid's Rise. If ye want, ye are welcome at Avon - there is no requirement t'stay, we are a refuge for th' lost an' injured.
It was more than that, of course - it was a found family, a close-knit unit that operated for the love of it all rather than the sole purpose of survival. Fable risked her own bodily harm to find answers not because she wanted to live through this time of uncertainty, but because she wanted everyone else to do so as well.
Ye don't have t'make a decision yet,she added.
But ye shouldn't be out here alone. Th' Rise isn't far from here, if ye wish t'travel with me.
Alone and unfamiliar with Mythris could be a deadly combination.
RE: haunt this eclipse - Torben - 6/5/2025
Skill:
Feel free to end here if you'd like!
The shock of his realization had rattled him, startling him beyond what was comprehensible. And for a while, that shock was a numbing mask over the other emotions that welled within his chest. It had effectively created a wall, guarding Torben from the inevitable thing that would come next:
The starkness of his loss.
His safety. His family. Everything.
He remembered when Foxglove had gone missing and he recalled the emotional toll it had taken on those left behind. No one had even been able to say goodbye — it had been a hurt so cavernous. So painful. It had left a hole in all of their hearts. And now ... now he was doing the same thing to them. And it hurt even more than when he had felt loss himself, for he knew how his family would suffer without him there.
Outwardly, Torben would slowly deflate.
The pink stranger — Fable of Avon — would continue to speak, but Torben's cinnamon eyes were glassy, staring dissonantly into the distance. "But ye shouldn't be out here alone." Alone. The word resonated, stronger than Fable would realize.
Right,he added, his voice a soft huff of useless air. Slowly, his gaze would find the warmth of those emeralds, but he could not find it within himself to smile. He could not find any other words.
But she was right about one thing.
He didn't want to be alone.
Alright,he'd concede to her offer, trying to stiffen his very visible frown.
Lead the way,he'd add, flicking his tail lowly behind him. He knew absolutely nothing about this place, and at least Fable seemed to have her wits about her. She seemed to at least understand some of the nonsense of whatever the fuck was going on.
So for now, he would bind to her, hoping he could catch his own bearings and find a way to get home.