04-09-2020, 11:37 PM
It begs, that empty knot called his stomach, he can only bend and comply.
Had he known what he was getting himself into, perhaps his actions would have been different, maybe his stomach wouldn’t gnaw at his spine and grumble just as much as he did. If the course had changed, would he be any worse off than he is now?
Where else would he have gone? Who else was there, so ready to take him on, the way Leilan had?
“Are we almost there?” It became a corrupted hymn, scowling and seething impatience, thinking only for the promised edibles.
Lacking a God to praise, he turned to condemning the situation.
Ivo was salivating before they neared the outer realm of Loess, Brilliant Pampas it was called, and it was.
The scorched tundra they had left was no feast, he’s chewed on more dry branches than he is ready to say. Here the green is expansive, the soils fertility fully expressing itself and the desire to take his fill, it is overwhelming.
“Finally,” he says, a restless tone overtaking his vocals, though it’s easy to mistake it for his usual inflection.
“Are we waiting to say grace or something? What a drag.” To further display his displeasure, he shifts his weight to his back legs, slumps his shoulders and- well, he visibly pouts.
ivo
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