FOX
It's a clear, breezy evening as Fox makes his way back towards the Inner Quarter, the fur of a wildcat slung over his shoulder. Not a monster, not technically, but just as dangerous when prowling around someone's farm, and when he doesn't know where his next job is coming from, he'll take what he can get. Besides, he might be able to make something with the pelt - or sell it, if nothing else.
He's drawn from his thoughts as he steps onto the bridge - this one is just plain stone, rather than one of the skeletal constructs - and finds his way barred by sheets of spider silk. Not strings or webbing - veritable sheets of the stuff, making it all but impossible to move forward. Not that Fox realises this at first - he doesn't know it's cloud spider silk, and so he tries to brush it away with the back of his hand.
Only to find himself walking right into - and bouncing off - the silk, tripping and landing on his ass on the stone. "Smooth," he drawls to himself. "Real smooth."
He's drawn from his thoughts as he steps onto the bridge - this one is just plain stone, rather than one of the skeletal constructs - and finds his way barred by sheets of spider silk. Not strings or webbing - veritable sheets of the stuff, making it all but impossible to move forward. Not that Fox realises this at first - he doesn't know it's cloud spider silk, and so he tries to brush it away with the back of his hand.
Only to find himself walking right into - and bouncing off - the silk, tripping and landing on his ass on the stone. "Smooth," he drawls to himself. "Real smooth."
astra inclinant, sed non obligant
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
