Meant To Be Seen, But Not Understood. [Open | Hunt]

[Mousen Heath]

No one expected him here, you see. They expected him to have gone deep into the north of Aeris, far, far away from the temple. He didn't blame them for thinking that, it was actually what he wanted to do. To get out of this blasted heat and sun and hide away until winter came back to Aeris. In some ways, he ways still trapped by the spirits. As he walked through the barren-looking plains, he wondered idly what they'd to do him if they caught him. Suppose they'd kill him? Part of him disagreed with that, they'd want to be kind, they wouldn't want to have blood on their hands. In fact, they'd probably just lock him away again. Funny, really, because he didn't ever intend to go back in some hole under the ground. He'd rather be killed than be reduced to a snivelling figure in the darkness.

The sun was unrelenting, this was, of course the summer in the Ochre Plains. As Nicholae walked, any small creatures that had previously been sat in the sparse grasses or circling above in the cloudless blue sky seemed to vanish almost instantly. He carried an air with him that just set things on edge, he seemed to be darkness, death, and disease rolled up in to one. He, Nicholae, was plagued in ever sense of the word. He flopped down onto the hard ground beneath an over hanging piece of rock, the shade was a welcome relief from the head of midday.