a devil on the run, a six gun lover, a candle in the wind
Soooooooo fuck Torchline, land of beaches and sun and dragons who bite out feathers. The Greatwood makes a decent change, truth be told, and portals? Portals are weird. Still, the hows and whys of getting there are far beyond Arsen's thoughts as he freewheels through the trees in full shift. Ink black feathers sharply contrast the vibrant colours of the leaves - but everything here seems to be bright. He likes it. Reminds him of home, a bit.
It's time for a break, though, and he's stopped for a bit. To an onlooker he's either very interested in his own reflection in the Crimson Cataract, or he can't decide whether to take a drink or not. And honestly? It's a bit of both, the harpy cocking his head at the ruby depths, admiring the red self that looks back at him. He wants to dip a talon in, just to see what happens. Just to ruin it, in case it's perfect.
It's time for a break, though, and he's stopped for a bit. To an onlooker he's either very interested in his own reflection in the Crimson Cataract, or he can't decide whether to take a drink or not. And honestly? It's a bit of both, the harpy cocking his head at the ruby depths, admiring the red self that looks back at him. He wants to dip a talon in, just to see what happens. Just to ruin it, in case it's perfect.
Arsen
