Osozo
Though they had returned to the Hollowed Grounds briefly, to pay their respects to queen and sister, to a brother, Osozo had returned to Torchline quickly, almost eagerly, the allure of the mostly unknown land calling to them.
Really, the hardest burden to overcome was the sun, but with the heavy clouds that hovered over the coast, an apparent feature of Flowerbirth, they felt safe enough wandering the streets through the day. The fashion of Torchline had been picked up quickly by the Demi-god, a pair of shorts and a scandalously open shirt cladding their body, bare feet and wide brimmed straw hat completing the look.
They weren't paying too much attention to where they were going, letting their feet find a path while wide, multicoloured eyes took in everything around them, the sights and stalls and smells, however dull the latter might be. It was only one the second or third glance around that they noticed they were loosely following a very familiar ginger man, and Osozo found their feet speeding up, following Sam to the edge of the dock.
They stopped just behind their fellow ascended, a stony, judgmental look on their face, eyes a pale, sickly, green, and their hair bone white. Not a word left them, though Osozo was certain the weight of their stare could be felt. It had to be, else they were just ominously hovering behind someone, waiting to be noticed.
Really, the hardest burden to overcome was the sun, but with the heavy clouds that hovered over the coast, an apparent feature of Flowerbirth, they felt safe enough wandering the streets through the day. The fashion of Torchline had been picked up quickly by the Demi-god, a pair of shorts and a scandalously open shirt cladding their body, bare feet and wide brimmed straw hat completing the look.
They weren't paying too much attention to where they were going, letting their feet find a path while wide, multicoloured eyes took in everything around them, the sights and stalls and smells, however dull the latter might be. It was only one the second or third glance around that they noticed they were loosely following a very familiar ginger man, and Osozo found their feet speeding up, following Sam to the edge of the dock.
They stopped just behind their fellow ascended, a stony, judgmental look on their face, eyes a pale, sickly, green, and their hair bone white. Not a word left them, though Osozo was certain the weight of their stare could be felt. It had to be, else they were just ominously hovering behind someone, waiting to be noticed.
H I G H F U N C T I O N I N G F L E S H
