His scars ache.
The familiar pain drives him from his den early that morning, shifting to his human form as he gazes out across the forest. Though the cold is bearable without his coating of fur, he's not particularly inclined to remain there motionless, no matter how beautiful the dapples of autumn light appear through the naked branches overhead. It is of an early enough hour that he can see his breath when he sighs, a calloused hand lifting to run the length of the scar on his chest. It's a habit he knows he cannot break, not after years of using it as a touchstone, but the freedom of movement is still new enough to him that the motion does not feel quite natural.
Turning away from the sight he begins to walk. As aimless as always. It gnaws at the young man, this uselessness he is burdened with. This land is inhabited by souls of the most independent sort, with small families and partners instead of large lands of family in all shapes and sizes. There is so little for him to do, nobody to ask it of him, and Cera...does not know how to cope with that kind of freedom. In Helovia there had always been a task, a purpose, a station to fill. There was never a question as to what he had to do - maybe not on that particular day, but with his life.
Here, there is only...choice. Free will, though of a sort he's unfamiliar with. He could live his entire life as he does now, simply feeding himself in his canine form and wandering the world he has found himself in until his weary paws drag him back to his den. But what is the purpose in that? He aches with the lack of it, and so he wanders. Back to the Spire, as he finds himself doing so often. A familiar enough action, reminiscent of the days when he would shepherd home lost and roaming souls, offering them sanctuary and knowledge. Just as Jigano had for him.
It takes most of the day, and the sun warms the earth slowly, almost reticent with the promise of winter ahead. Or at least, Cera believes it to be winter. He's not sure with the warning Deimos had given him what differences he will face with the changing of the seasons. For now, however, there are new places to explore.
Not far from where he had started, verdant fields and healthy trees loom towards the sky in resistance to the natural order. Cera can't help but be drawn into it. The serenity alone is reason enough to explore it. Perhaps it would silence his tumultuous thoughts.
What he finds instead, nearly stumbling upon the man hidden within the eagerly growing foliage, is a body. Luckily said body is alive, but the appearance startles a sound of surprise from Cera's throat nonetheless. Cheeks flush with embarrassment at being taken by surprise in his own wandering mind, and he steps back a few paces to give the man some space. He cannot help but observe in those moments though, seeing the pinch of despair on the man's brow, the hands digging deep into the earth as if reaching for the stability of the roots below.
Without justifying his impulses, for they often led him true, Cera calls out softly in hopes of not startling or intruding upon the man's reflections. "Hello there, mind if I join you?" He stands there awkwardly in the aftermath of the question, not wanting to be a burden. Still it's a free space, so he eventually folds his legs beneath himself and sits upon the forest floor, gazing around at the beautiful scenery and rocking gently back and forth. Instinctively he wants to ask what troubles the stranger, used to providing counsel and comfort, but he should probably at least know the man's name first. He wasn't that crass yet.
Speaking of names...
"My name is Cera," he calls just as softly as before, feeling as if he could not speak above a certain level without shattering the peace of the glade.
The familiar pain drives him from his den early that morning, shifting to his human form as he gazes out across the forest. Though the cold is bearable without his coating of fur, he's not particularly inclined to remain there motionless, no matter how beautiful the dapples of autumn light appear through the naked branches overhead. It is of an early enough hour that he can see his breath when he sighs, a calloused hand lifting to run the length of the scar on his chest. It's a habit he knows he cannot break, not after years of using it as a touchstone, but the freedom of movement is still new enough to him that the motion does not feel quite natural.
Turning away from the sight he begins to walk. As aimless as always. It gnaws at the young man, this uselessness he is burdened with. This land is inhabited by souls of the most independent sort, with small families and partners instead of large lands of family in all shapes and sizes. There is so little for him to do, nobody to ask it of him, and Cera...does not know how to cope with that kind of freedom. In Helovia there had always been a task, a purpose, a station to fill. There was never a question as to what he had to do - maybe not on that particular day, but with his life.
Here, there is only...choice. Free will, though of a sort he's unfamiliar with. He could live his entire life as he does now, simply feeding himself in his canine form and wandering the world he has found himself in until his weary paws drag him back to his den. But what is the purpose in that? He aches with the lack of it, and so he wanders. Back to the Spire, as he finds himself doing so often. A familiar enough action, reminiscent of the days when he would shepherd home lost and roaming souls, offering them sanctuary and knowledge. Just as Jigano had for him.
It takes most of the day, and the sun warms the earth slowly, almost reticent with the promise of winter ahead. Or at least, Cera believes it to be winter. He's not sure with the warning Deimos had given him what differences he will face with the changing of the seasons. For now, however, there are new places to explore.
Not far from where he had started, verdant fields and healthy trees loom towards the sky in resistance to the natural order. Cera can't help but be drawn into it. The serenity alone is reason enough to explore it. Perhaps it would silence his tumultuous thoughts.
What he finds instead, nearly stumbling upon the man hidden within the eagerly growing foliage, is a body. Luckily said body is alive, but the appearance startles a sound of surprise from Cera's throat nonetheless. Cheeks flush with embarrassment at being taken by surprise in his own wandering mind, and he steps back a few paces to give the man some space. He cannot help but observe in those moments though, seeing the pinch of despair on the man's brow, the hands digging deep into the earth as if reaching for the stability of the roots below.
Without justifying his impulses, for they often led him true, Cera calls out softly in hopes of not startling or intruding upon the man's reflections. "Hello there, mind if I join you?" He stands there awkwardly in the aftermath of the question, not wanting to be a burden. Still it's a free space, so he eventually folds his legs beneath himself and sits upon the forest floor, gazing around at the beautiful scenery and rocking gently back and forth. Instinctively he wants to ask what troubles the stranger, used to providing counsel and comfort, but he should probably at least know the man's name first. He wasn't that crass yet.
Speaking of names...
"My name is Cera," he calls just as softly as before, feeling as if he could not speak above a certain level without shattering the peace of the glade.
and my hands are not clean, maybe they never will be
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
