RIGBY
Flowerbirth was back, and with it the rain. Monsoons would be coming soon, even though the night was gone the sun wouldn't truly be out. Not until the storms had passed and the Torcher's were drenched and drowned. Some years Rigby aided in the monsoon preparation, especially in areas that he often found himself sleeping. Long ago his dad would've had him helping with big groups of people, then scolded him for wandering away from the loud and rambunctious.
He followed a stream up from where the salt turned to freshwater, into the jungle of vibrant color and life. The vines there had become familiar, and though they tugged and weathered his shoes, he would rather have them touch him than anyone else. He delved into the Oerwoud, avoiding any possible responsibility back by the shore, instead enjoying the luminescence and silence of a buzzing forest.
He followed a stream up from where the salt turned to freshwater, into the jungle of vibrant color and life. The vines there had become familiar, and though they tugged and weathered his shoes, he would rather have them touch him than anyone else. He delved into the Oerwoud, avoiding any possible responsibility back by the shore, instead enjoying the luminescence and silence of a buzzing forest.
when i grow up i wanna be
nothing at all
nothing at all
