Terror or Treasure?

In all the time that he had lived there, never once – to his recollection – had he actually taken the time to investigate the layout of the ruins. Desmond walked with his hands in his pockets, his empathetic pain ring worn on his right hand with his bag of medical supplies slung over his shoulder. For the first time in what felt like forever, the healer wore a gentle smile, a genuine smile. Why? Nothing had changed really, but he felt okay. It was relatively warm out with the perfect breeze that just nipped at his exposed skin. He took a deep breath, hopping up on a log and back down again, kicking a rock playfully. His smile grew just slightly, crow’s feet pinching outside of his blue eyes that shone radiantly. It was all too rare that Desmond felt alive, that he felt happy. Was this what happiness feels like? He thought back, finding static in his memories and sighing softly. Of course he couldn’t remember. Regardless, he was enjoying it. From what he had heard from people who actually did go exploring through the ruins, these old buildings and stones could potentially hold a tale of danger or reward. Who was to say what the day would bring to the healer? desmond Talk to the Moon, Heal the Soul