— I'm not here looking for absolution —

Stave has never been someone who is particularly interested in socializing.

He has found that it is a boring use of his time and that most others that he meets are dull and dim-witted, hardly worth the exertion it took to maintain a conversation. Still, for all of his hours spent experimenting with the dead and the undying, there is a piece of him that can sometimes yearn for more—that grows more interested about the things that grow outside of the wasteland that is his home.

So, this morning, he rose and instead of moving into the shadows of the nooks and crannies that he has found, he instead turns to the border. He wrinkles his nose in distaste at the thought of finding others, but he cannot deny the curiosity that bubbles in his veins—great enough to override the displeasure at the idea of being around others. Enough that he continues walking when he wish he wouldn’t.

Pangea begins to bleed away in all of its glory and it is soon replaced with the meadow, teeming with life and crowds. It is busy today, he thinks, his depthless eyes scanning the groups of horses that mill about before he skirts the edges to continue. He has no great desire to walk into the sunshine today.

Instead, he continues walking, the scent of death clinging heavily to him and scattering the small birds and creatures in front of him. He reaches a narrow point of the river and quickly splashes through it, the mud splattering up his inky legs. His lips curl but he continues forward to where the trees grow more and more thick, the shadows stretching out further in front of them. He exhales then, comforted by it.

It is quiet around him, but he can feel the traces of life echoing in the outer rings of his consciousness.

Perhaps he will tug on them to see what answers.

Perhaps he will simply sit in the shadows and breathe.