OOC: I'll be playing the crow as a temporary NPC for the first couple of posts or so.
In the silence of a dim evening, Slade was relishing his favorite sound: nothing. He had been restless that night, unable to close his eyes because of the thoughts buzzing around in his mind. He could hear them best in the dead of night, which didn't help. So he had decided to take a little walk, to familiarize himself with his surroundings a little further from Cercatori d'Arte's territory. He hoped that there was no problem with passing over the borders; he was certain that others did the same thing all the time and that it was fine to be outside his homeland as long as he didn't trespass.
Slade really had no intention in mind; he just wanted to have a calm walk through the forest. He didn't care how dark it was getting; as long as the only sound he heard were his paws crunching on snow, he was satisfied. While thoughts whirred around in his mind most when there was silence, straightening them out was also easy. He resorted to doing this as he padded through the unclaimed woods of Ethereal Eclipse.
As of late, Slade had been telling himself to do quite a bit. He wanted to find someone who could teach him the basics of writing; this could easily be accomplished by talking to a pack member whom Shawchert, his pack's male leader, had mentioned, Orin Takekuro. He had been trying to be more outgoing; he was going out of his comfort zone by traveling outside his pack's land, correct?
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp screech. Slade winced at the noise, stopping his walk. He craned his neck up and saw a small black blur perched in a tree directly above his head, which to his annoyance he couldn't make out due to myopia. He could quickly figure out that the shadow was a crow, however, after it let out another caw. He could have sworn that he was looking down at him, and his imagination went to work.
"Slade, what are you doing awake at this time?"
Slade replied aloud, which may not have been the best option considering it broke his treasured silence, and likely made him look quite strange to a passer-by. "I could ask the same of you. Aren't crows supposed to be diurnal?"
"Same of you," the crow replied, in a parrot like fashion. Slade frowned and snapped at it, which made the bird jump up and flap its wings, hitting a branch and sending a flurry of snow down on his face. Shaking his head, Slade glared up at the crow, which was crying at him wildly, as if laughing.
Slade spat a mouthful of snow out of his jaws, which had turned mostly to water. "Very funny," he growled flatly.
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