Sex: Male-throws out a Pax AW <3-
Cloudy
56 ° F, 13 ° C
56 ° F, 13 ° C
It wasn't as though he'd been struggling on his own. Paschal, for all of his issues and mental health deterioration and psychopathic insanity, was actually quite good at providing food for himself. Now, he wasn't fat, by any means. He just wasn't underweight, either. This was partially due to the fact that he would eat whatever he came across - carrion, small prey, sick prey, berries, plants... almost nothing was off-limits for the pale-furred young man.
In fact, he'd just finished up a decent meal of a half-rotten rabbit corpse he'd found decomposing in the forests to his back. After a brief trip out of the Lore, per the requests of one of his most powerful voices, Asheroth, he had been urged to return. Still in the southwestern corner, but still completely present and ready to be of use to the voices. He still couldn't recall quite why they had made him kill that silver girl last time he was there, but it had seemed supremely important at the time. Now, he wasn't so sure. But he had faith, and he knew that they would not do such a thing for no reason.
He blinked - for what seemed like no time whatsoever - and suddenly he was stood on the edge of a massive white cliff, looking down. The sight took his breath away, and he found that he liked the view from on high as he was. So many of the voices were shouting with joy, excited and enamored with the view and the superior feeling it gave them to look down on everything else. They rather liked that feeling in particular, and why shouldn't they? They were basically gods - on high was where they belonged.
Perhaps the colorless wolf could provide them with that - in more than just physical. He was a vessel, after all.