Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream... {Open)

[Cinnamon]

In the middle of a nameless meadow somewhere outside of Paradisia, under the gentle warmth of a late-morning sun, he lay comfortably against his ursine friend and traveling companion, Ame, watching the gradual, scudding progress of fluffy, shapeless clouds across the sky. His staff lay on the ground beside him, well-laden--as always--with whatever snack food he’d fastened to it. Today, it was raspberries, and they went perfectly with the champagne he was currently sipping--just one example of the many perks that came with being a both a maker and a merchant of wine.

He was on his way to some city or another, having just ended yet another visit home to replenish his supplies. Like always, his father--that crotchety old goat--was only interested in when he intended to get over his “wandering phase,” while his mother constantly bleated about how much she missed him. He was twenty-seven, they both reminded him as if he was constantly forgetful of the fact, and still not even one wife! Did he want to make his mother ill with worry? she would ask. And what about the farm? his father would interject. Expanding the family market was one thing, but it was high time he settled down to tend to his REAL responsibilities.

Ugh. All their nattering EVER did was give him increasingly painful headaches; and that, in turn, just made him want to drink...

Thus reminded, he took another sip of his champagne, retroactively bolstering himself against his parents’ well-intentioned nagging.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like upholding the Wildbacher legacy--far from it! He just didn’t want to stay in one place to do so. Drys save him, but he was afflicted with an unceasing restlessness that just wouldn’t let him have any peace. He needed to let his hooves roam, to let his eyes see and learn anything and everything that was foreign to him. Therein lay the only, real happiness that he could ever claim to possess. A challenging life, maybe, but he was suited for it.

With a leisurely stretch, he decided to include Ame in his train of thought, “You get it, don’t you, love?”

Get what, came the deadpan response.

“Why I’m so restless. Why going home has become so difficult--”

Why you do all that posturing about how important your family business is to you, just to drink your own wares in a field.

Her grumpy response only made the errant faun throw back his head and laugh, while Ame snorted at him derisively.

“Fine, fine,” he gasped a moment later, recovering himself, “This will be the day’s only transgression.” Then, putting the truth to his words, he quaffed the rest of his champagne and clambered back onto his hooves.

Now that he was standing, the cinnamon-colored fur that was his namesake gleamed rosily in the sunlight, contrasting nicely with his tan skin and (dyed) blonde hair. Flicking his long tail, he adjusted the scarlet, toga-like fabric he’d tied about his torso, making sure it sat just right, before exercising the same care for his the matching headwrap. Thankfully, the equally scarlet coin-scarf wound around his right bicep and the wrapped leather on his forearms needed no readjustment. He wasn’t a vain creature, but he did like what little clothes he wore to be just so. After all, he was a merchant. He sold his appearance to his customers, just as much as he sold his wine--that was what his father always told him, anyway, and he’d done enough business of his own to see for himself how true the statement was.

When he was satisfied with his looks, he crouched to reclaim his staff as Ame roused herself to return to the cart. Following her, he reaffirmed that his rucksack was therein, along with his ancestral horn, and--of course--the newly topped-off barrels of wine.

Having positioned herself between the shafts, Ame waited patiently while Cinnamon attached her harnesses. He’d done it so often that the process was done almost as soon as it began, and the two made their way back onto the road in companionable silence.

[Seether]

Reann twitched as a beam of sunlight played across his face. His face twisted as the last vestiges of a peaceful dream fled from the folds of his mind and he shifted ever so slightly to relieve his eyes of the brilliant glare. As his eyes fluttered open to blink away the last of his sleep, he was suddenly wracked by a viscous yawn and urge to stretch. Long unused muscles and joints creaked and cracked as his short frame elongated to its full length within the confines of his hollow. He held the pose for a long second, his teeth clenching, a low growl escaping his bared fangs before collapsing in on himself in a whoosh of air and rustling leaves. He coughed once and smacked his lips and teeth together as he gathered his still sleep scattered senses, groping halfheartedly around his hollow for his things. A few moments of searching rewarded his troubles and as he began strapping them to his waist and back he afforded more effort to his scatter thoughts. A few moments later he finished both his tasks and made a quick cursory double check to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything before swiftly making his way toward the opening of his hollow.

He burst forth from beneath a small screen of twigs and leaves, a grey and white blur of pent up energy released from the earth and emerged into the brightening dawn at the edge of a small crescent shaped meadow. All around him rising to towering heights were great pines and oak, the evergreens glistening with morning dew and the great oak branches just beginning to show evidence of spring. All around him the sounds of an active and vibrant spring forest freeing itself from the clutches of winter filled the air. He inhaled sharply, sampling the multitude of scents the surrounded him, from the soft brown earth beneath his paws, to the sharp smell of fresh green things sprouting from beneath their recently thawed layer of snow and ice. He also caught a whiff of a large predator, no doubt a bear, that had recently passed through the area reestablishing its territory. By the sharp musky odor he guessed it was male but as he was no bear himself, he couldn't be sure. He felt his ears twitch, responding to the great input of sound even as his nose bathed in its own discoveries. He could hear a rabbit, scurrying and scratching at the ground in search of seeds and fresh roots. He heard two small birds, mayhaps sparrows, twittering their morning songs to one another as they flitted between tree branches above him. In the distance he could hear the solitary yipping bark of a fox as it chased down its breakfast. These sounds and smells all quickly blended together as he filled his lungs but should he require it, he was confident in his ability to separate them into more individual parts. For now though, he reveled in the great mingling.

He exhaled loudly and opened his eyes to the sights and sounds of life around him. His lips drew back in a great smile that to anyone watching would have looked more like snarl, and with one last deep breath began sprinting up the nearest side of the meadow to disappear into the trees. He was running on all fours before he had even crossed half the expanse of green grass and multi-colored flowers.

He ran for a good two hours, alternating between a bipedal loping gate that had him leaping from fallen logs to the great trunks of great trees and a long bounding galloping like motion that saw him leaping great expanses of forest floor at once. All at once he reached a crest of a hill and burst forth from the trees onto the van of a great rolling plain of wheat like grass. He slid gracefully to a halt using both his hands and back paws to brake, rising to jog slightly on his hind paws before coming to a full stop. Below and beyond him the great plain rolled for many many leagues to his left, right and ahead and in the distance he could just make out the thin plumes of wood smoke that denoted a settlement. No doubt it was the small town he had heard talk of, a multi-cultured town of mostly human and elven farmers and woodsman. A far cry in size and scope from the nearby city of Gisela, this small town served as more a way station to the great markets of the region capital. All the same, it was a substantial habitat of peoples come to live within the south-eastern plains and not a place to be taken lightly. He rather liked it personally.

His breath coming in short rapid gasps the wolf boy look to his left, and then his right and seeing no one, focused his gaze down onto the road that snaked through the tall grass just beyond the base of the hill he found himself standing on. A scattering of small groups of people and wagons moved in either direction on the road, itself only wide enough to let two merchants wagons pass abreast. This being a more multi-cultured part of the world he supposed he'd be able to walk openly among the people, but the animistic portion of his brain stressed caution where the youthful human side of him encouraged openness. He briefly struggled but ultimately his youth won out and he began to descend the hill, in a more measured, appropriate, upright way, so as to not appear a crazed wild creature out to cause harm. He made the road a short half-hour later, emerging from the grass between two small groups of travelers, one a cluster of farmers and their carts going to market, the other a small train of merchants and their guards, all traveling toward the distant town.

Settling his things on his waist and back, for they had shifted during his wild run and short hike, Reann set off in the direction of the town, absently wondering what new adventures he would find within the town. What new and interesting people he might meet. Also, he needed some food as he hadn't felt quite like hunting, youthful laziness and all. Behind him the great golden globe that was the sun slowly rose higher into the ever bluing sky of dawn.

[Cinnamon]

(Placeholder. Post will be up today.)