For a man of creation and construction, there was a certain freedom to be enjoyed in the structure of the body he had been given. Though its representation of his soul remained uncertain at best, it awarded perks that he'd otherwise taken for granted. Even compared to his...original form.
There was no coin or currency with which to make his way societally in this land. In many ways it was primordial, more reminiscent of his homeland than the advanced lands Cera had traveled through in the past years. Bartering and self-sufficiency were the laws of the land, and these attributes oft led to a nomadic, solitary life that the ember-child did not take well to.
Nonetheless he stalks the Greatwood, whispers and news of the Fae ringing in his furred ears as his silent, coal-dipped paws traverse the new land. It is teeming with wildlife that the lands near the Settlement so not enjoy - surely the cause of desperate overhunting. So he follows his nose, sensitive and sure. Stalking the prey, the quarry, that he knows inhabits these woods.
Instead, as the trails mix and mingle and the scents become muddled, another becomes apparent. Something too mixed and artificial to be animal. Human? Cera is not too keen with his nose when it comes to the human populace, but the trail is fresh and his limbs are swift, an easy solution to the curiosity that festers freshly in his mind and which draws away his attention from the hunt at hand.
The hulking form of the man is difficult to parse from his surroundings, motionless mountain that he is. Cera huffs a low sound in his throat, intentionally letting his paws land heavier upon the Earth as he approaches. For a moment he considers communicating nonverbally with the hunter, verdant eyes upon the slim structure of the bow in his hands. Instead he awaits the man's attention, and when it is received he lets the shift overtake him until his own slim form emerges on two legs.
Careful not to move with his much louder, clumsier two feet, he murmurs softly across the distance. "Care for assistance with your prey?" Cera can't summon offense if his offer is denied, but the quick kill of a bow is preferable in his mind to the slow agony of his skilled but painful bite. Perhaps he can lead the man onward to the freshest trail of deer, or hunt and herd one into his line of sight. If he was open to sharing his kill, at least.
There was no coin or currency with which to make his way societally in this land. In many ways it was primordial, more reminiscent of his homeland than the advanced lands Cera had traveled through in the past years. Bartering and self-sufficiency were the laws of the land, and these attributes oft led to a nomadic, solitary life that the ember-child did not take well to.
Nonetheless he stalks the Greatwood, whispers and news of the Fae ringing in his furred ears as his silent, coal-dipped paws traverse the new land. It is teeming with wildlife that the lands near the Settlement so not enjoy - surely the cause of desperate overhunting. So he follows his nose, sensitive and sure. Stalking the prey, the quarry, that he knows inhabits these woods.
Instead, as the trails mix and mingle and the scents become muddled, another becomes apparent. Something too mixed and artificial to be animal. Human? Cera is not too keen with his nose when it comes to the human populace, but the trail is fresh and his limbs are swift, an easy solution to the curiosity that festers freshly in his mind and which draws away his attention from the hunt at hand.
The hulking form of the man is difficult to parse from his surroundings, motionless mountain that he is. Cera huffs a low sound in his throat, intentionally letting his paws land heavier upon the Earth as he approaches. For a moment he considers communicating nonverbally with the hunter, verdant eyes upon the slim structure of the bow in his hands. Instead he awaits the man's attention, and when it is received he lets the shift overtake him until his own slim form emerges on two legs.
Careful not to move with his much louder, clumsier two feet, he murmurs softly across the distance. "Care for assistance with your prey?" Cera can't summon offense if his offer is denied, but the quick kill of a bow is preferable in his mind to the slow agony of his skilled but painful bite. Perhaps he can lead the man onward to the freshest trail of deer, or hunt and herd one into his line of sight. If he was open to sharing his kill, at least.
Cera
The worst in me could bring out the best in you
