The silky shadows of the night where brisk and absolute without the added shine of moonlight. In contrast, the open glow of the lake was fresh and bright and blue as it shined with tones of silver that spoke of mystery and starlight. It was with a sense of restlessness and unease that he pulled himself from his den in the hours passed midnight that spoke of darkness and long lengths of time between now and daylight. Perhaps it was for the shine that brought out the deep blue light and ripples of silver that cast along its edges. Perhaps it was the calming sound of gentle lapping that called to him, that brought the silver boy to its side in the embrace of darkness.
Whatever the reason, Alpine found himself at the edges of the lake, his eyes intent upon its surface and the wall or darkness it held beneath. This place had become his home and his haven, it was here beside Wolfpaw lake that the worries of his soul could ease and dissipate. Valhalla was the first place he had called home in a long time, and for all that had happened well here within its borders he was grateful that he had been brought here.
He would set his hunches against the earth and reminisce, his thoughts to Lyric, to Twig, to Crucifix, to Erani, to his past, to his fears, to anything and everything that consumed his soul and ensured his restlessness this night.
