[Location for Home Turf: Dreamer's Col]
Crux was not having one of his better days, like physically. Although that probably didn't help his mental state either. He'd woken up that morning with his hips already aching, and it had taken a very short time of being up and about for the ache to morph into a constant pain. Crux leaned back on his haunches with a groan. The stone walls of the col helping to hold him upright. He'd barely gotten in the mouth of the tunnel before he'd had to just sit. He hated this! No matter what he did, no matter what he could do days like this would always happen, there would always be things inaccessible to him, and he'd always be expected to suffer in private silence. It sucked. Maybe that was part of what had drawn him so much to Cryptis, he didn't need to pretend life wasn't sometimes just hard. Crux tipped his head back, feeling the rough stone pressing against his skull and prayed no one would need him today, no one was looking for him today.
"Speech"
Updated 04/30/23: Still on
indefinite scarcity, please do not remind me of threads I am behind on right now.
Crux has a 6 inch long burn scar on his throat, most of his art does not reflect this.
