[ U Didn't Say Please Varus Smfh :/ ] - Blog Posts

              downtime is not a rarity.     living without care in the world is a motto he's since subscribed to,     adhering to such hedonistic law for no other reason than to gain pleasure     ———     a lack of care for trivial matters that humans fret over allowed gates of new possibilities to be opened,     surpassed as all continue to wallow    &    drown in pools of responsibility.     though he is one to quell these worries with song    &    dance,     it is ephemeral,     contained within the space he's intruded graced with his presence.     rakan is free     ———     to remain collective    &    silent,     gazing upon nature's finest work,     the trees that stretch towards the azure sky above,     the relaxing grass he considers comfortable enough to be a bed,     the foreboding man whose primal voice pierces through the tranquil silence of the moment.     wait,     what   ?

              ❛     huh,     not even going to give me your name first or anything   ?     at least a compliment on my good looks   ?     ❜     it's not a deliberate remark to avoid the question,     he just takes offense to those that fail to be captivated by his charms.     possibly because no such magic is being used.     perchance because this new individual isn't an average human.     lips curve upward with every intent,     finding new source of entertainment before him.     who was this guy   ?     ❛     darkin,     darkin     ...     ❜     feigns being lost within own thought process,     circling around varus,     hand rubbing at own chin,     humming to further accentuate elaborate lie.     soft chuckle,     he shrugs.     ❛     nope,     sorry.     don't think i know anything about the darkin.     ❜

The patience of a hunter bridles even the superlative of lust that is his primal instinct to kill  —  not yet, he chides himself. The quiver of his accursed bow is only half-way drawn, the faintest glimpses of vermilion flickering where the string is at its tensest, but the bow is not aimed. What he seeks is answers, not the heart of the airy Vastayan that he stalks. 

He finally approaches close enough to where Varus hides. The soft grass rustles in his wake, and Varus rounds the corner, approaching deliberately, like a snake. His voice is a foreign growl in his ears, primitive and guttural. 

“You. Tell me, what do you know about the Darkin?”

@feyquil​ / sc.