Welcome to Vivarium, a world between planes! No one is sure where this world exists nor in what era, but it has already ended up heavily populated by an array of creatures. Are you ready to “wake” in the world of Vivarium and explore its mysterious existence?
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Holding close to the forest, it is further decorated by beautiful red wisteria’s that overheard the area alongside blossoming apple trees. Red holds onto these willowing vines, often letting the ground be trampled by dazzling petals while the white flowers start to welcome the fruitful season of ripe apples. An elk’s delight, as near the end they graze through to scavenge the fallen remains.
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Skill:—[0/5]
Rain may as well be just about the last damn thing she needed. Citlali's breath hitched as she cautiously stepped over the forest floor, her limbs pawing at every obstacle lest she fall over.
Unfortunately, sightless groping could only get her so far. Her paw got caught against a root, and down did she fall, descending onto the damp woodland floor like a dove shot mid-flight. Fur of silver and ivory spilled around her frame.
Frustration filled her gaze, her brows furrowed—this was all too much. This new realm she had to familiarize herself with, this time alone—no one was around to help her walk, to bring her food, which she could not hunt herself. Not even to tell her whether a berry was poisonous or not, rendering foraging useless.
Her limbs bunched together. Her chin rested upon her paws.
Just when everything couldn't possibly seem any worse, down fell the rain, seeping into her fur and nipping her tender skin with frigid moisture.
3-2-3
All events involving Citlali occur on a strictly organic basis unless discussed OOC and mutually agreed upon.
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Skill:—[0/5]
Footfalls were usually easy to detect against any material. That was the one way she could tell when one approached—the rhythmic thrum of their feet pressing into the earth.
Yet, now, as the torrential rain danced along the forest floor with a cacophonous pitter-patter, she could not hear the stranger. Not until his soft voice rang out into the woods, mild in tone and temper. Citlali's ears sprang up, her head rose within a heartbeat. Pale eyes skittered over the ground innately, though it did nothing to help pinpoint where this voice had called out from.
A pale paw braced itself against the sodden ground, prepared to rise at a moment's notice. No, not injured, perhaps, save for a few bruises she'd collected from stumbling about. I'm alright. I don't need any herbs. She drew in a quiet breath, muscles still tense.
There was no ill intent in the sire's voice. That much, she could trust—yet, deep down, there remained the deep-seated worry of ulterior motives. Citlali was vulnerable—always. Wherever she may be, whoever may be around her, there will always be the opportunity for the cruel to grasp her throat with their teeth. There would be nothing she could do to avoid it.
The wolfdog's limbs pressed into the ground, and slowly, she rose. Her tail was taut, coiled over her hips, and whisking by her hocks with worry.
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Skill:—[0/5]
With paws gingerly tucked against her chest, Citlali heeded the man's words—he was a medic, so it appeared. How curious. Huitzilin knew well of the herbs, yet the interest could hardly be called a profession. The woman calmed herself, sucking in a deep breath and coiling her tail around her rump.
'I—I apologize for my rudeness, miss, but...' Her head canted, skepticism growing in her taut visage. 'Are you alone? I am familiar with blindness. I understand the challenges you may be facing.' Oh. That wasn't rude.
How strange it was that people would always be afraid to speak of the subject. It was no insult to call her blind—for she was. She always would be doomed to see naught but the shift between light and dark. It seems that I am, she remarked, ears swiveling about as though to listen for Naira. She would not be here. I was not before, but... But she found herself in some strange, foreign world. How was she to explain that to a stranger?
His nose brushed against her shoulder, a gentle action, one she could easily recognize as benevolent. Still, she shuddered, a compulsive reaction. 'Trust my guidance, let us escape the rain, miss. I will move as slowly and as carefully as you need.' I trust you, she murmured, bracing her hind limbs against the sodden ground and hoisting herself up onto her feet. She braced herself against his flank, gaze held steady towards the ground. Ny name is Citlali.
One would assume—at least, Citlali would—that the generous release of death would offer more solace than life. Yet, her ribs continued to jut from her sides, and hunger still gnawed at her torso with frantic fervor. Was this death? Was this the afterlife, and he, an angel? Or was there some other unforeseen fate which led her here?
Citlali only knew that this was not home. Naira was absent. So was the comfort of grass, replaced by roots that gnarled over the ground and trees that towered high above her head. The sightless girl turned to the stranger, Rouche, and pursed her lips. Where am I? Her brows furrowed. Something deep-seated held onto the belief that the answer was far more complex then it could seem.
3-2-3
All events involving Citlali occur on a strictly organic basis unless discussed OOC and mutually agreed upon.
