He almost recoiled from the Duskwight as those hands reached out to take hold of his head, but was stopped both by his own will and want to survive, as well as the impossibly firm grip at the base of his skull. He grimaced as knobby fingers wiped at his face, pushing the mud about in rough patterns. "... Right, I mean, I'd wanna wash one of these days... nights..." did this place even have day? The heaviness of the shadows implied that it did not. "... anyway."
Resting his weight back on his hands as the Duskwight disguised his features, the mud-caked miqo'te listened to the groaning of a wind he couldn't feel and smelled scents he couldn't place. His eyes, pupils dilated as much as they could, could pick out next to nothing in the darkness, only able to make out his apparent savior's form thanks to his movement and proximity. He thought to question why something as simple as smearing dirt on his face would ward off apparently blood thirsty spirits, but then decided that escaping one's own grave was enough of a conundrum. It would be better simply not to worry about it. As long as this stranger was right. But then...
Why would spirits want to kill him? The question came suddenly, and his lack of an answer only added to his confusion. He wanted to ask a great deal of questions of this stranger before him, but he could not think of where to begin.
Resting his weight back on his hands as the Duskwight disguised his features, the mud-caked miqo'te listened to the groaning of a wind he couldn't feel and smelled scents he couldn't place. His eyes, pupils dilated as much as they could, could pick out next to nothing in the darkness, only able to make out his apparent savior's form thanks to his movement and proximity. He thought to question why something as simple as smearing dirt on his face would ward off apparently blood thirsty spirits, but then decided that escaping one's own grave was enough of a conundrum. It would be better simply not to worry about it. As long as this stranger was right. But then...
Why would spirits want to kill him? The question came suddenly, and his lack of an answer only added to his confusion. He wanted to ask a great deal of questions of this stranger before him, but he could not think of where to begin.
![[Image: AntiThalSig.png]](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/179079766/AntiThalSig.png)
"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm; and these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."
Hipparion Tribe (Sagolii)Â - Â Antimony Jhanhi's Wiki
