EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH — open interaction

[south]

[align=center][div style="width:500px;text-align:justify; line-height: 110%;"]There was not a day that passed on which Faustus did not think of Wren. There was not a day that passed on which Faustus did not think of Kofi. Their spirits lingered with him, an eternal chain Faustus had cursed before, but eventually grew grateful for its attachment. He had come to terms with his loss, but to say he had healed was an overstatement that a stack of carefully pressed letters would prove wrong.

The flowers broke easily against the blade as Faustus cut them with care. He kneeled among the flowers, careful to not crush any flowers under his heel as he selected a particularly bright bunch. He rose as the hand knife clicked shut in his free hand, slipping it back into his pocket as he made his way back up the slope, towards the eastern quadrant of their land.

His footfalls slowed to a stop upon his arrival. He remained still a moment before splitting the bouquet of flowers into two groups. Faustus placed one on each of the flat slabs of rock which he had carved Kofi and Wren’s initials into. ”Morning, my loves,” he murmured gently. ”White lilies today. Reminds me of your favorite dress, Wrennie,” He smiles. Pauses, eyes lingering upon kofi’s carefully crafted carvings. ”I love you more than you know. I’ll see you soon.”

Faustus approaches the old dirt path again, slowing to a halt as he nears a group of gathered members. Up fairly early, to his surprise. ”Morning,” he greets them with a nod. ”Anyone feel up to helping me build some fishing poles? most of ours have been abused by the kids after Thursday’s fishing class.,” he mused with a light smile. Faustus was an excellent teacher, but a rather bad disciplinary when it came to the kids.

[south]

[align=center][div style="width:500px;text-align:justify; line-height: 110%;"]He was still very new to the group, and was wandering its paths. The territory was lush and full of life, its streams trickling, livestock chittering, members passing friendly greetings, and children laughing. Wren’s Sanctuary was lively. Not necessarily in the sense of a great number of people, as the group was small. But in terms of actual life. The plants were bright and lush, the livestock round and active, the people with a kind of hope in their eyes. It was the most life Osirus had seen in a long time.

It panned opposite to the facility he had been locked up in for 15 years. It’s colorless walls and floors, it’s defensive residents, and aggressive hierarchy. Even fun and laughter was shared in hushed tones, and walked on eggshells so much his feet grew sore. Here, light shone brightly and unabashedly, gifting warmth to all below it. It was promising.

Osirus approached a small group of members as he heard Faustus’ rumbling voice from the short distance he closed. ”I’ll help. I can collect supplies if you tell me what we need,” He offered, greeting the others with a tilt of his head.