RE: The Iridescent Lagoon has turned a strange color.
There were, perhaps, more important things to be looking for. Hellbore, if any remained after the first frosts. Skunkbrush, which should still be present even as other plants died away and returned to the earth. Instead, Veho’s nose was pressed to the ground, ears flat against his skull as he focused all his energy on the particular, musky scent of his favorite fungus. He was vaguely aware that seeking out the source of relief in a time of great anxiety had dangerous implications, but what other choice did he have? He could hardly go to his sister for advice – he’d always considered himself the shoulder to lean on, and refused to give up that illusion just yet. To seek out @Namid would be to admit defeat, to admit something was wrong, and if he were going to sink that low, it would be in his best interest to summon his ethereal @Belladonna and sink into her heavenly ruff. Their last discussion had been incredibly painful, and while she’d not be the first to hint Veho might be a bit mawkish, he was no more ready to hear it now than any time in his past, not in his childhood after Neha’s death, and not after leaving his parents.
Yet here he was, all but drowning in his own emotions as he trotted along the banks of the lagoon, idly noticing it had taken on an unusual color. Were it any other day, were he not plagued by hurt and awash with guilt, the healer might have stopped to investigate the strange shades. Who knew what it might do to the fish – or was this simply a symptom of the freeze? Having never lived this far north before, Veho couldn’t say, and he left it at that, trotting onwards as the chilly water splashed up against his belly.
Deciding he was too close to the source of water, the wolf veered further inland, pressing his nose back to the ground. This proved to be a wise choice, as he soon picked up the telltale musk of earthy growth. Sniffing and slowing to a walk, he made his way through trees and over logs, until he found his drug of choice. There the mushrooms grew, in a relatively more open patch, sprouting up from decaying grass. It was the perfect time of year to harvest these fruits, for they relished the decay brought on by frost. After a moment, Veho decided to find himself a large leaf – he could bring many more home this way, and it would be much more difficult to lose his bounty if he decided to partake.
Tears stung at moonlit eyes as he reached down, gingerly taking each cap in his mouth and tugging just enough to free it from its stem. How badly he wished to speak with his Ancestors – and how he knew he was just as likely to detest their advice as he was to appreciate it. All he wanted was to be with his partner – and it seemed he was the source of shame, of secrecy. The guilt festered, even as he tried to shake the crippling sense of unhappiness off, and continue his chore. If he hurried, perhaps he could make two trips this day. No one would have to know.