Howler had sat down on one of the few sunny spots they had found after a bit of exploring - it still was a bit too much, how the trees towered above them, blocking out the sun for the most part of the forest. This was nothing like the snow-fields and the tundras with their vast, open skies, nor like the hidden bunkers and underground tunnels.
No, the trees felt almost oppressive, almost as if the only reason why they weren’t falling down and crushing everyone beneath was by the power of prayer. … Maybe Howler had heard too many stories from their grandparent.
Grandparent that was now mentioned in their tomestone, along with…
With….
Howler took in a harsh breath, exhaling it softly before looking up at the Aetheryte. These magics had been uncommon back where they were from. Used too many resources, only be activated in an emergency… To think there was more than enough to have full network going now. Howler shook their head, and looked back down on the tomestone briefly, before pocketing the device.
They couldn’t go up North. Not yet. Depending on the time Howler was sent back, he could be either alive, unaware of the adventures he would be pulled into. Or, he could be dead. A heroic sacrifice, which repeated so many times in so many timelines - it had been a miracle he had been alive in Howlers time, even if their time together had been so very brief.
Howler wasn’t sure which would be worse outcome - to look at a man known for his kindness and bravery and not be recognized… or to know he was dead before Howler would even have a chance to meet him properly, finally form an opinion of the man they only had seen in paintings, only heard in songs and mournful stories spoken in hushed tones, between the cups and hiccups.
The forest grew heavier, the presence of nature that had been a comfort during childhood now alien, almost threatening - bittersweet memories of their grandparent showing how beautiful the nature was before it was all tainted.
Before the forest had grown angry, and taken it's - ultimately final - stand.
A thick lump formed in Howlers throat, before they got up - eyes glazing over the giant Moogle balloon in the distance, the cheery chocobos, the handlers who had ignored the Duskwight.
Giving some directions and saying hello to a lazy bones in Bentbranch Meadows. Usually end up finding Zachariah around here, the feather brained cat boy.
