1/31/2025, 7:50 AM
Skill: 「 - 」
TW: small mention of a previous attack and previous death
A sharp, gasping inhale was how Rouche had woken up. It was abrupt, his fur prickling as the ominous feeling of goosebumps washed across his skin like waves on a shore. Something was wrong, and he couldn’t quite recall what it was. The man’s head turned slowly, brows pleated with a desperate expression of uncertainty. Where…was he? And when had he fallen asleep? Green eyes met the sky, noticing the way clouds were highlighted and traced in the unmistakable colors of dusk. It was odd for him to sleep the day away, only adding to his already messily-sized knot of confusion.
Rouche eventually stood, his body feeling heavy and fatigued for a few seconds before managing to stabilize. He concluded staying there wouldn’t answer any of his questions, so he might as well search, even if it ends up being all in vain.
After a time, it was the faint sound of cracking ice that drew his ears forward. Rouche glanced in the direction of its origin, his feet beginning to move instinctively. After a few strides, his limbs locked. Trace amounts of adrenaline began to course in his blood, increasing his heart rate and burning him from the inside out.
He remembered Barbosa… he remembered Aerys… and he remembered—
Rouche shook out his coat, as if it would aid in releasing the tension he felt. There was an attack, he recalled seeing it, hearing it, feeling it. He hadn’t survived, then? Was that how this worked? His life ended and he was thrust back into the world as if the cycle was never to end? He supposed death was the way he’d gotten to Mythris in the first place.
Then what of Barbosa?
Green eyes blinked, regaining focus on the here and now. Standing and wondering was not going to solve his questions. So he made his way towards the one who had been cracking the lake’s surface. It hadn’t taken long, her lilac-brown fur standing out gently from the otherwise winterized landscape.
TW: small mention of a previous attack and previous death
A sharp, gasping inhale was how Rouche had woken up. It was abrupt, his fur prickling as the ominous feeling of goosebumps washed across his skin like waves on a shore. Something was wrong, and he couldn’t quite recall what it was. The man’s head turned slowly, brows pleated with a desperate expression of uncertainty. Where…was he? And when had he fallen asleep? Green eyes met the sky, noticing the way clouds were highlighted and traced in the unmistakable colors of dusk. It was odd for him to sleep the day away, only adding to his already messily-sized knot of confusion.
Rouche eventually stood, his body feeling heavy and fatigued for a few seconds before managing to stabilize. He concluded staying there wouldn’t answer any of his questions, so he might as well search, even if it ends up being all in vain.
After a time, it was the faint sound of cracking ice that drew his ears forward. Rouche glanced in the direction of its origin, his feet beginning to move instinctively. After a few strides, his limbs locked. Trace amounts of adrenaline began to course in his blood, increasing his heart rate and burning him from the inside out.
He remembered Barbosa… he remembered Aerys… and he remembered—
Rouche shook out his coat, as if it would aid in releasing the tension he felt. There was an attack, he recalled seeing it, hearing it, feeling it. He hadn’t survived, then? Was that how this worked? His life ended and he was thrust back into the world as if the cycle was never to end? He supposed death was the way he’d gotten to Mythris in the first place.
Then what of Barbosa?
Green eyes blinked, regaining focus on the here and now. Standing and wondering was not going to solve his questions. So he made his way towards the one who had been cracking the lake’s surface. It hadn’t taken long, her lilac-brown fur standing out gently from the otherwise winterized landscape.
Excuse me, miss?His voice carried from a distance away, not wishing to make the other feel cornered or crept upon.
My name is Rouche, may I come closer and speak with you?a question he often asked, as consent was an important thing to him. He recalled Henley, injured and tense, as well as Macadamia. Both times he feared their unease would prevent his medical assistance from being applied. The nice thing was this woman also seemed to be in well enough health, or at least uninjured.