The Storm Sings Fiercely [Event]
09-18-2014, 01:57 PM
Albion had left the east for the sole purpose of avoiding these damned storms. But no. Here he was, being battered by the elements once again. He growled to himself, all the while cursing the gods for their poor sense of humor. He'd heard a fair share of shamans and wandering monks talk about how much they loved their subjects, even if none seemed to agree upon who or what was really up there looking down on them. As far as Albion was concerned they were all half-baked because any entity that would bring this hell to the terra was no deity of his. Light cracked down from the sky, searing into a proud oak not forty paces from him, the explosion of it's thunder loud enough to make him crouch down into a cowering stance, belly fur brushing the muddied earth, and ears pinned. As far as reactions to sacrilege go, he joked to himself even as he stood there frozen with fear and quivering, that has to be one of the best. Slowly, hesitantly, and with an upward-turned gaze he rose and began his journey once more. The pale brute slunk across the forest floor until the oaks and maples transitioned into a grove of Willow trees. Several bore roots which had had their gnarled roots exposed by time and flooding. He could see spots where the old flood plains had held sway and looked downhill to where he could only assume a now raging waterway waited, hidden below the terrace which made up its current boundaries. Willows did love to drink, or so his mother had taught him. A new gust of wind pressed in upon him, stronger than most, and he turned his way up hill to where an appealing tangle of roots lay, providing what he could only hope would be adequate shelter. Much to his surprise, he found to pseudo den already occupied by a fae who looked about as displeased as he felt. He blinked against the rain, and in surprise, tilting his head tot he left. "Not that we're best buds or anything," he began, voice raised over the crescendo of sound, "but I'd really like to get out of this weather. Is there room in there for one more?" Gods, he didn't know what he'd do if she said no. He was hardly the sort to press someone against their will but getting washed away in a flash flood sounded just as appealing. |
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