perhaps Amaris , otherwise aw!

---

The bastard son awakens in a place far too hot and dry for his tastes. Basked in the shroud of his father's warmth, sprawled out upon warm sand-stone. Sand dusts his hair (fur?), much to his chagrin. This is no Olympus. There are no servants waiting at his feet, there are no maidens to charm and no lyres to strum.

He is painfully alone, and in a body that is not wholly his own. Paws for hands, four golden limbs instead of two. He is a beast! How...unfitting, for the son of a god!

Perhaps it was Hera who's struck him down and cursed him to roam as wolf. Bitterly, he curses her image as he sits up with an exaggerated huff. At least his fur is a gorgeous shade of golden light. And perhaps he should be grateful he's uninjured. But, alas, his looks always came first. It was a shame there was no gilded mirror to admire himself in.

There's nothing but sand and warm stone and desert that stretches for miles. With a roll of his eyes, he grumbled sourly to himself. Couldn't he have been casted down somewhere more...pleasant?

---

Skill: ---

---

Despite what excitement had come from the previously discovered glowing runes, the following artifact, and the pestering pleasant encouragement of the dream visitor inside Amaris’ head, the adrenaline of their journey was finally plateauing. And with that steady decline of once-harnessed energy, Amaris could now begin to feel the weight of his exhaustion riddle his bones and dampen his spirits.

The desert was still as hot as ever, burning what had felt like holes atop his back as his silver fur all but sizzled in the midday heat. Were it not for the artifact he and his group had found, Amaris doubted he would have ever traversed toward this scorched strip of earth. But then…was it always this hot when their world was not dying?

He presumed he would not have known.

Still, his paws propelled him forward, guiding his wavering spirit as he searched for any plot of land that promised a moment of sanctuary. Shade, cover, greenery—he would not be picky.

A tongue lolled from his mouth, a futile attempt to dispel the heat as he continued to trek across sand and stone. His body was not accustomed to or bred for this type of weather. If anything, he was meant to live in the shadows of the forest, in the peaks of the mountains, and beneath the steady glow of a comforting moon.

Not beneath the sun.

Not in this heat.

Disgruntled albeit slightly, Amaris trekked forward until the heat of the sun sent ripples across the horizon, and the steady portrayal of steam did a number on his perception. Was that a body? Or a mirage?

The moonlit man couldn’t tell, but it did not stop him in the slightest from investigating. A steady ‘boof’ erupting from his lungs as he cut the distance between them.

The sun of his father burns bright here. Sweltering with no cloud to shade; perhaps Elios should've felt a tether. A sliver of a connection that would whisper his father's tidings. But there is none. If anything, those blinding rays of sunlight make his mood sour all the further. Apollo surely wouldn't have cast him from their perch among the clouds to haunt this...wasteland, right?

With spindly limbs that are far from what he's accustomed to, he takes a few steps forward. The sand feels like molten lava beneath his paws, and his throat is parched. Hazel eyes, squinted to combat the sun, search foolishly for an oasis, or even a tree. He finds nothing but a figure in the distance, backlit and shrouded in shadow. Was this a mirage?

A bark cuts through the deafening silence of the desert. Elios perked up with glee—alas, he wasn't alone! Surely another beast trots toward him now, and he silently prays upon his father's name that his tongue would be understood. Wolves could surely talk amongst themselves. At least, it is what he hopes for, as he too danced forward to greet the beast.

But it's hardly a beast at all. A slender, pretty little thing, blessed by the moonlight of Artemis and twice as gorgeous as any of her sullen huntresses.

With familiar charm, Elios beams. By the mythos, aren't you a sight for sore eyes! He strides, glides, eats the distance between them with an eager sway of his tail. With a flourish of a bow, his eyes burn bright. Greetings and salutations! Would you happen to know your way out of this blasted wasteland? I'm afraid I will shrivel up beneath this sun. He muses, eyes wandering appreciatively.

---

Skill: Ranger

---

The heat was a blasted friend atop his back, heavy and weighted along his shoulders, as his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth. Amaris could not stand it, but neither could he find the will within himself to give in to the wafting heat and give up. So instead, he pushed on forward - until the break in the steaming horizon offered him a gift in the form of a shape.

His boof, though loud and amicable, was a far cry from his normal greetings. Where energy once would expel comfortably and with enthusiasm out from between his teeth, now Amaris kept what vital vigor he had left close to his chest - anything to stave off the exhaustion that came from the heat.

It had not taken long, however, for the shape in the distance to form into a being with four legs, eyes, and a mouth. Golden and softer than the steady rays that beat atop his back, and kinder as his words lifted Amaris’ spirits in the form of a growing grin.

A man.

Pretty in the way he all but seemed to glide across the sands to meet him, with words that offered a sense of comfort and ease to the despair he felt alone in the heat.

For a moment, Amaris had felt his heartbeat flutter inside his chest. A gentle beat of wings as the man before him bowed and spoke. His words were akin to the beauty that often came with a setting sun, one that promised peace and warmth without pain or agony. A feeling Amaris often felt when watching the sun set and reflect atop his once beloved lake.

Greetings…and..salutations, Amaris parroted back, testing the words atop his tongue - was that the proper greeting in these parts of the south? He didn’t know, but neither did he wish to offend the other — it was the first stranger he had seen since finding the artifact, and one that was far better looking than most. Hurriedly, he tried to match the other man’s bow, which in truth was nothing more than a poor display of apprehension and tangling legs, as his longer limbs tried to make space against the scorching sand.

Truthfully, he appeared as wobbly as a newborn fawn in the woods. All legs, no poise.

He cleared his throat, swallowing down what remained of his pride as he gave a bashful chuckle. I-uh- Amaris was making a fool out of himself, and if Aelia were here, he was certain his twin would laugh before rushing in to save his hide.

The moonlit man gave a brief look to the horizon behind the other, searching quietly for any break in the rolling sands for a piece of shade or tree, or rumored oasis he had heard sometimes appeared in the south.

Thus far, he had found none.

You and me both, he finally said after a beat, returning that golden gaze of his toward the hazel depths of the other - a charming smile, finally growing atop his lips.

I believe it is this way, he offered with a point of his muzzle to the west. He had not gone that way before, but while he knew the dunes to the east held some trees and a tunnel (the place he had come from before), Amaris was not keen on traveling the same path.

Not when the world was working against them.

Care to accompany me on an adventure? He asked the other with a grin.