// I wish I had a reason //
Searching for peace and contentment are foreign concepts for Danta, especially as of late, because these days those things rumble in his blood as if they were made for him and him alone. The Maverick of ages past might have scoffed at this version of himself, believing such a future to be a fantasy worthy of mockery and scorn, and to that Danta says: shut up and watch this.
Swooping into an effortless dive betwixt the branches of the Greatwood on the dark wings of a corvid, the ribbon of crimson below has caught his eye a few times on his flights across or through the region, but he's never had cause to investigate it further. Now, though, with Longheat brimming on the horizon and little to do with his afternoon other than find ways to fill it, the Hollowed Grounds' theocrat cuts smoothly into the Crimson Cataract, managing to splash through the hovering waters and out the other side.
Already shifted back into himself as he lands in a roll and a tumble on the grasses, Danta might be soaking wet, but he's still grinning to himself as he sits up, shaking his hair from his face and wiping at his eyes to see more clearly. It really is red, he realises, pulling bits of scarlet algae from his clothes before it can latch on too tightly. Somewhere behind him, he hears the startled movement of what appears to be a pack of wolves, not that the Maverick is much bothered.
Always hungry, but not nearly in the throes of bloodlust right now, he'll hold his own against the pack if they come to bother him, but he's just as content to live and let live today.
Swooping into an effortless dive betwixt the branches of the Greatwood on the dark wings of a corvid, the ribbon of crimson below has caught his eye a few times on his flights across or through the region, but he's never had cause to investigate it further. Now, though, with Longheat brimming on the horizon and little to do with his afternoon other than find ways to fill it, the Hollowed Grounds' theocrat cuts smoothly into the Crimson Cataract, managing to splash through the hovering waters and out the other side.
Already shifted back into himself as he lands in a roll and a tumble on the grasses, Danta might be soaking wet, but he's still grinning to himself as he sits up, shaking his hair from his face and wiping at his eyes to see more clearly. It really is red, he realises, pulling bits of scarlet algae from his clothes before it can latch on too tightly. Somewhere behind him, he hears the startled movement of what appears to be a pack of wolves, not that the Maverick is much bothered.
Always hungry, but not nearly in the throes of bloodlust right now, he'll hold his own against the pack if they come to bother him, but he's just as content to live and let live today.
Dantalion
// my flaws are open season //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
