no rest for the wicked
Oh, this place was rather terrible. A burden to walk through and an annoyance to breathe in. The ground squished with every step he took. As he picked up his paws he left soggy prints, flicking muddy water up against his legs and underbelly. Displeased was an understatement. Sheer exasperation plastered his facial features downward. His brow furrowed, his lips pulled down, and his nose wrinkled. He wasn't sure exactly when he became a 'pretty boy' but at the current moment, he just knew that he was one. Mud did not suit him well. Or maybe it was the suction from the very Earth that he was willing that turned him away. He didn't agree with the way the ground tried to swallow him. The entirety of the swamp bothered him to the core.
Valkorion tried to find order in the chaos. He searched for patterns, high, low, near, and far, but he was coming up fairly short. He thought if he stayed on the mossy grass he'd be fine, but that too would squish under his weight. He then turned to the roots that were also trying to escape the endless siege of water, but he found that they were either too weak to support him and also sank, or they were loose and slick. He settled for the grass. Though it may have oozed between his toes as he walked, at least it was stable-ish.
The mahogany coated man continued to trudge. Up and down. Under and over. The fog rolled in and still, he marched. He'd find his way out of this mess soon enough. But not before he came across a lost soul.
The brute climbed over a half decomposed log, his massive paws griping into the spongy soil as he eyed the creature lying in the muck. He turned his muzzle upwards, his eyes cast downward. Nostrils flared as he examined the pitiful brown creature before him. No tail, and hardly any ears. Who had been so cruel as to allow this dirt to go on? Valkorion was many things, but cruel he was not. He saw no point in letting someone suffer or letting someone live with a constant reminder of their self-worth, which was nothing. He saw it fit to end them. That was unless they deserved to walk with their faults on their pelts. He could name a wolf or two.
"Convenient," his voice was heavy and it echoed from behind the she-wolf. "If you continue to lay there like you've given up, the Earth will reclaim your sack of bones. Is that your intent? To just sink into the mud and fade away?" He asked with genuine curiosity. Had she wanted to die, he could be of assistance, and if she wanted to live... Well, he was feeling generous today. "Let the darkness sleep"
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