and all their words for glory, well they always sounded empty
To the Wilds he goes, once again, exploring and playful – following a stream of pumpkins as quietly as he can (and much to his pleasure, he’s kept himself hidden quite well). It’s almost like a practice of sorts, one that has him slipping through the trees and the vines, the fields and the valleys, all following the steady stream to wherever it is they’re heading.
Ah, but then something distracts them and Varus knows that it isn’t him. Their attentions are on something else, focused intensely on a duo of sorts beyond the bushes. And Varus? Well, he can’t help but to approach from the opposite side, watching curiously until he spies just what’s going on.
He’s not sure he’s ever been happier to see anyone, though, grinning wide and ignoring the pumpkins for the moment as his arms spread wide and he slips through the bushes on the opposite side. “Well if it isn’t my favorite dragon and her keeper?”
Ah, but then something distracts them and Varus knows that it isn’t him. Their attentions are on something else, focused intensely on a duo of sorts beyond the bushes. And Varus? Well, he can’t help but to approach from the opposite side, watching curiously until he spies just what’s going on.
He’s not sure he’s ever been happier to see anyone, though, grinning wide and ignoring the pumpkins for the moment as his arms spread wide and he slips through the bushes on the opposite side. “Well if it isn’t my favorite dragon and her keeper?”
VARUS
