The Scarred and The Royal

The world moves while the heavens standstill.

All the clouds stood their ground while the rays of sun blew past them almost like an unstoppable storm. The beams of light shredding past defenseless, slamming into the white powder upon the soil. So many new scenes unfolded before a single turquoise orb, brows furrowing in curiosity it studied the terrain set before it. A lone being among the silence. He sat there letting his skull rock from side to side softly, flexing his cheek in a small grimace as several sounds pierced his one-half ear. There wasn't much in these lands now was there, nothing but silence and the occasional limp snapping under the pressure snow. How weak. What a shameful show put on by the wooden titans. In fact, the time had passed by so quickly he almost didn't notice that nightfall was close.

A dual gaze of white and light green shifted to the sky, watching the grey clouds lingering above, spilling out the white flakes in a furious In terms of fun... this had to rate a high negative. There was absolutely jackshit to do here, scoffing audibly at the number of events laid out before him. It stirred something inside. Muscles beneath black fur flexed as he pulled himself up off the cold dirt, glancing only briefly at the dying grass below. This was indeed a time of death of mourning, but as far as mourning went.. He would do no such thing. "Enjoy thy slumber." Baritones echoed out of his throat with less feeling than the dead, shaking his head softly at the pathetic excuse of nature around him. The brute began a journey through the woodlands, keeping to the outskirts of this clearing, slipping between sharp and gnarled branches.

While his normal instincts were to keep quiet and to go unnoticed. There was no one else around so there was no need for such actions. Heavily scarred lips rose slightly in a sly manner as they twitched with anticipation; but why would the need for anticipation rise up? A birdie has wandered too close. A strong drive struck every chord within each fiber of his being, though...there was still no sign of emotion crawling across his maw. Nope, this was strictly business. Business required neither emotion nor exaggeration to execute. The scent of this Birdie crawled its way into his nose as a deep inhale, now unlike him, this creature wore its emotions on its sleeve.

Depression,Agony,Longing,Pity.

Though despite all these emotions there was one particular feeling that stood above all the rest. This smell made the blood within his vein bubble and boil over, but it was kept in check. Heart-ache. This Bitch had clearly suffered something truly lethal. All the threads of fate had been cut except one, waiting to break free of the soul they were bound to. A decision to fall silent was made and where he had been making noise. The crunching of snow ceased to no limbs cracked from running into, directions changed and he went downwind. It was almost as if he'd been a ghost wandering around the land of the living. There are two rules that are absolute in the lands of carnivores. Hunt...Or Be Hunted. There was no need for honor or laws. No, it was take what you can take and leave the scraps for the poor. Powerful forelegs pushed forward as toes splayed outwards to muffle the noise made, slipping out of the foliage the hunter crept out behind this birdie. A face of nothing but cold features as the scars upon his skull, following with a rather blank expression and with no sense of care or compassion he spoke. "You look lost. Little Dove."