There were certain... benefits to spilling into this reality so unceremoniously, benefits of which he was discovering at an incredibly hurried pace. When everything is odd, nothing baffles you. It's simply the nature of things. When faced with facts, Auguste acted methodical. If this land—this world—manifested absurd pink fires at whim and allowed him a coat of fur and four paws to walk on, then, well, by fucking God anything could happen! Might as well. Why not?
For this reason, he didn't think nor care about the fissures. Yeah, he'd seen them. Yeah, he wasn't bothering with them.
For this reason, he slept more than he woke.
Maybe it was more than that; something deeper and saddened, but that, too, didn't matter.
By the time night fell, he'd rose with the crackle of stiff bones and an aching stomach. Auguste was growing familiar with the differences of aches, many the canine physique seemed inclined to, likes aches to run, to bark, to howl, to feast, yet the ache he felt now rung as familiar and primal. He knew it. He felt it on the air. That honeyed scent.
The fire.
Auguste would notice its pulsing glow in the distance, a beacon amongst the obsidian night. It'd be unbecoming of this land if that was all he noticed. A silhouette of slender stature, stark, emphasized by the snow. His nose twitched no better than a rabbit's might've. Whoever that was, they were unaware of him. Were they alright? He'd find out.
His footsteps broke crusting snow, his breaths fogged in the air, and his voice came out hoarse, "Is everything okay?" He questioned, tail waving timidly without his input. Auguste slowed his step as he approached, then his step stuttered and slammed him to a stop. Oh. "Oh!" All he needed was a mere glance at the tawny male's... equipment to read the room. "Shit! Sorry, I, uh, I didn't know you were busy, man, that's on me. My bad!"
Ingloriously, nervously, he turned to leave—
—and tripped over his own paws, landing face first in the snow.
For this reason, he didn't think nor care about the fissures. Yeah, he'd seen them. Yeah, he wasn't bothering with them.
For this reason, he slept more than he woke.
Maybe it was more than that; something deeper and saddened, but that, too, didn't matter.
By the time night fell, he'd rose with the crackle of stiff bones and an aching stomach. Auguste was growing familiar with the differences of aches, many the canine physique seemed inclined to, likes aches to run, to bark, to howl, to feast, yet the ache he felt now rung as familiar and primal. He knew it. He felt it on the air. That honeyed scent.
The fire.
Auguste would notice its pulsing glow in the distance, a beacon amongst the obsidian night. It'd be unbecoming of this land if that was all he noticed. A silhouette of slender stature, stark, emphasized by the snow. His nose twitched no better than a rabbit's might've. Whoever that was, they were unaware of him. Were they alright? He'd find out.
His footsteps broke crusting snow, his breaths fogged in the air, and his voice came out hoarse, "Is everything okay?" He questioned, tail waving timidly without his input. Auguste slowed his step as he approached, then his step stuttered and slammed him to a stop. Oh. "Oh!" All he needed was a mere glance at the tawny male's... equipment to read the room. "Shit! Sorry, I, uh, I didn't know you were busy, man, that's on me. My bad!"
Ingloriously, nervously, he turned to leave—
—and tripped over his own paws, landing face first in the snow.
