[PRP] Following the Scent [Moon Son x Soul]

[unwanderinggirl]

Moon Son had strayed to the edges of the swamp more than once before. He'd always followed his nose, the scents enticing his imagination to wonder about what exactly did lie beyond the familiar. Still, his feet were never willing to travel further than what he knew, and so today he'd simply come just far enough. It had been a long trek he'd started before the sun. He was never really interested in too much sleep, restless and curious as he was.

Content to mill about the soft, damp places and let the breeze that tickled is cloudy gray fur tease him with the unknown as he nibbled and daydreamed from the borders of his feral comfort zone.

Moonrise, his songbird, flitted about overhead, enjoying the sun of late afternoon, chasing his meal on the same winds.  

[StarScarred]

Soul Drift is wandering the edges of the swamp again, near the borders of hot sands and cool shades, where the trees are thinnest. He has been here before, but he is still unwilling to travel very far from the reaches of the Swamp. It's nothing in particular, really, that has brought him here this time. A mere returning of curiosity, another glimpse of heat and sand that could merely have been a memory from the last time, or a new dream urging him to go. He doesn't really know, and isn't concerned with it. The sands, the plains, are an endless source of newness to him, even if, like the swamp and the sky, they never really seem to change.

Except, he knows, things are changing. He has heard stories, and may have, in the past, thought he'd seen some things. But he's never really quite known. His head, at the moment, is tilted faintly in a thoughtful manner as he lies beneath the shade, his eyes narrowed to mere slits against the glare of harsh sunlight further ahead.

Spectre, meanwhile, sits perched atop one of his horns, resting with him from the heat and seeming to almost doze there, comfortable.  

[unwanderinggirl]

It was Moonrise who noticed the other kimeti first as he flew effortlessly overhead, still unsuccessful at finding his meal. A brief flurry of song escaped from his beak, friendly and open-ended, perhaps more aimed at the other songbird as much as at attracting the attention of both kimeti.

Yellow eyes gazed upwards as Moon Son heard his familiar's voice, gray ears twitching as he paused, still chewing some bits of something tasty he'd found along his wandering. He lifted his head and inhaled the breeze.

He was not alone after all.  

[StarScarred]

As the sudden, sweet burst of song fills the air, Soul turns to look in the direction it came from. He spots the bird first, and then it's owner. Spectre lets out an answering trill in her sweet voice, but remains perched atop one of his horns.

He thinks about how there always seem to be kimeti at the edge of the swamp, and wonders if he's just been lucky in meeting other here, or if there are more and more who have come, feeling that strange pull to the edges of the marsh. Either way, the other buck's presence is not unwelcome.

"Have you come to explore the edges of the swamp, too?" He asks, tilting his head in the other's direction before motioning toward the open plains. "It's a strange place, isn't it?"  

[unwanderinggirl]

The answering songbird's voice led Moon Son's gaze toward the other kimeti, and the gray buck didn't hesitate to approach once greeted, ears tall and cheerful. With a sweep of his head back to the horizon briefly, he agreed,

"Strange, indeed. I'm often led back here, it seems, if only to look and to smell." There was a big of chagrin in his voice, something in the twitch of his fur, the angle of his muzzle—he was somewhat ashamed he'd never bothered to stray beyond the comfort of the swamp.

Even just once.

His curiosity was still unsure, it seemed.

"I find the dryness here refreshing sometimes." Moonson admitted, not really thinking to introduce himself in his interest in meeting others who shared his current fascinations, "And yourself?"  

[StarScarred]

"I've been near here before but I've yet to find much other than flat lands, heat and the dryness of the hard packed earth. I'm hoping that, perhaps this time, I will find something of more interest... After all, it isn't the first time I've found myself drawn here."

After a brief nod in the direction of the plains before them, beyond a bit more shrubbery and short trees, Soul turns back to regard the other buck. "My name is Soul Drift, and this is Spectre," he nods toward the songbird which had taken off in flight to land on a nearby branch.