black and blues

[Sebastian Ryder]

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There was only one thing Sebastian Ryder was confident he knew for sure: his name. No, that wasn't entirely true. The feeling of guilt was so prominently flowing through his skeletal veins it would have been blasphemy to ignore its existence. Shamed of losing her, disgraced for abandoning his family, and shunned by his emotions; there were so many components he couldn't fully piece them together. Traveling with that troupe any longer would have been synonymous to performing a slow and painful suicide - he just couldn't let the agony overwhelm. So he'd disbanded and journeyed by himself for several months, the only supplies in his small knapsack being a couple paintbrushes, canvas paper, and an empty palette. It was all he'd ever needed.

Esper Hollow was unfamiliar and this was why he instantly fell in love with it. The contours of the rolling hills, the robin blue sky; he could already feel his fingertips clinching with the need to hold a brush to paper. There was simply nothing like the art of painting. Photographs captured moments, but only in the essence of carbon copies. Paintings were so much more: they encompassed emotions, opinions, and desires. Sebastian lived for his artwork, it was as simple as that. In wereform he approached the pack's borders, tawny chest gently rising with each passing breath. His golden eyes narrowed as he inspected the territory like only an artist would. Perfect.

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[Laurel Booth]

Howdy howdy howdy~
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The day was beginning to wear on and his headache had all but subsided, though it had diminished in intensity since he had first woke up. Nikita was resting, he had peeked in on the trio that were sick for a brief moment, and had more or less kept himself separate from the others as he had skirted around the edge of the territory. It was really too nice of a day not to walk about and walking was an easy excuse to get lost in his thoughts and it gave him a chance to really examine what kind of things were found growing in and around the fringes of the dense forest. For the most part, the sun had burnt away the thickest of the fog, leaving a haze left him feeling like he was walking in perpetual smoke; but not the kind that was choking and blinding.



Which was a good thing, because both his ears and nose picked up on the stranger at the metaphorical door before his eyes picked out his tawny coat through the foliage. With the wind in his favour, he almost frowned at the fact that someone was nosing around. Not because they were there, but because of what was going on the few miles into the heart of the territory that for now was well quarantined. Unless he was getting sick, which of course he was in full denial of because at that present moment, he was still a little hungover. When he had finally had enough dawdling, Laurel stepped in carefully to greet the stranger, who of all things, struck him as slightly familiar. “See something that catches your eye, by any chance?”

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