Fantasize for Tragedy

The black male had decided to stay on Ibon Isle after his meeting with Mortar, loving the way it was peaceful and quiet. He'd had so much craziness early on in his life that he was currently taking the peaceful silence for granted. Above him, the birds chirped and sang happily, merrily, a soft smile gracing his maw as he licked his legs clean, the tang of salty water exploding over his tongue. He'd just climbed out of the water after taking an early morning swim to try and beat the heat that was no doubt building already. The humidity was already building, and it was nearly stifling. A soft snort left Deacon's nostrils as he stood and stretched, his banner wagging a little as he padded back toward the water, the waves lapping at the beach gently, softly. His weight caused him to sink a little in the wet sand, and he lowered his crown to sniff at the water, his muzzle wrinkling up when he realized that he certainly couldn't drink this down. Well, not without becoming even more thirsty.

Quietly turning, he made his way back to the wispy green vegetation, slipping into the shadows that the canopies of the trees were laying down upon the world. Carefully, Deacon laid himself upon the gentle slope that led to a small pond, his eyelids sliding shut over vivid hunter green chasms. His banner was tucked comfortably, firmly against his left side, a gentle sea breeze ruffling his fur. A soft hum traveled the length of his body as he opened his chasms and watched the fish swim in the crystal clear water, a soft smile on his maw as he laid his crown upon his outstretched forelimbs.

He lost track of time, but he eventually found himself waking, his crown lifting, maw parting in a powerful yawn, one that had his body quivering in the effort. Slowly, Deacon stood and stretched out his muscles, a soft groan leaving his throat as he turned and began walking back to the beach, hunter green chasms locking on the pale male that was making his way across the beach and crossing back into the forest greens. Deacon remained where he stood, audits perked high atop his cranium, which was canted to the side slightly. A curious look crossed the black male's face as he quietly watched the male shake himself dry, his body standing behind the male now as the pale one leaned lazily against one of the tree trunks. Carefully, quietly, slowly, Deacon approached him, drawn by some invisible force, drawn by his own curiosity. "Hello. I don't... I don't mean to scare you. I just... I was coming back through here on my way elsewhere, and I saw you leaning against the tree, a-and I wasn't sure if you were okay. Are you? Okay, I mean." For some unknown reason, the pale male looked familiar, but Deacon couldn't place where he knew him from.


text. "speech."