01-30-2023, 06:10 PM
The more the pair of them spoke, the more at ease Lucian began to feel. It was a short conversation, and one that did not delve too deep beyond the surface, but at times, that was all one needed. A normal conversation. One where you did not need to relive the personal traumas that shaped and formed another wolf.
He smiled—actually smiled—at the stranger’s words, finding the grace in his tone to be as forgiving and as kind as he had once wished his mother’s words to have been.
Not angry, pointed, nor critical.
But generous, kind, and understanding.
The grin upon the stranger’s face caused Lucian’s head to tilt, and when the words followed promptly after, his brows pinched. A butterfly? The blue man took a moment to wrap his gaze at the world around them. One perspective would be an empty and desolate valley, one that housed no butterflies ever. The only other perspective Lucian could see was that it was winter and all the butterflies that could’ve been, were dead.
Surely this man knew that, no?
“I hate it to break to you, but I don’t think you’ll be finding a butterfly to chase for a while,” he responded regretfully. He was an odd one, wasn’t he? “I do hope you find your butterfly though, if that’s any consolation.” Maybe in the Spring.
Lucian rose to a stand, ready to take on the rest of the world and resume his lonesome journey. “The nomad’s life is calling, I get itchy if I stay in one place for too long,” he confessed. “It was good talking with you, stranger, I wish you and your endeavors well.”
And with a final goodbye, Lucian began to push down the river and towards the east.
//attempted exit
He smiled—actually smiled—at the stranger’s words, finding the grace in his tone to be as forgiving and as kind as he had once wished his mother’s words to have been.
Not angry, pointed, nor critical.
But generous, kind, and understanding.
The grin upon the stranger’s face caused Lucian’s head to tilt, and when the words followed promptly after, his brows pinched. A butterfly? The blue man took a moment to wrap his gaze at the world around them. One perspective would be an empty and desolate valley, one that housed no butterflies ever. The only other perspective Lucian could see was that it was winter and all the butterflies that could’ve been, were dead.
Surely this man knew that, no?
“I hate it to break to you, but I don’t think you’ll be finding a butterfly to chase for a while,” he responded regretfully. He was an odd one, wasn’t he? “I do hope you find your butterfly though, if that’s any consolation.” Maybe in the Spring.
Lucian rose to a stand, ready to take on the rest of the world and resume his lonesome journey. “The nomad’s life is calling, I get itchy if I stay in one place for too long,” he confessed. “It was good talking with you, stranger, I wish you and your endeavors well.”
And with a final goodbye, Lucian began to push down the river and towards the east.
//attempted exit