Please remember that this character is still in the development phase. Because of this his interactions will be inconsistent and may be brief. We are still finding out who he is. Please also remember that muse is fleeting, so I may not continue an RP if I don't like where it is going. Please do not be offended, as I don't mean offense unless I let you know.



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Quiet.

It coated the land like honey. Sticky, dripping lazily from gods know where. It coated muscle and bone, making the morning's rituals carry on so slowly... molasses... just tired. And the blue stag was happy to sit in it. The sun warmed the fur of his back, loosening the grip that the tired ooze had on his inner self.

As the slow feeling melted away, the stag felt a strong desire to wipe it from himself. From a laying position, the beast fell to his side. He threw his hooves up in the air, curling his neck in to protect the ground from his tines as he rolled. Soon the feeling brewed further, causing him to roll with abandon and scrape the earth with his tines. The beautiful feeling that overwhelmed the beast tickled every surface of his body as he rolled back to his hooves and stretched. Page didn't even bother to shake off the grass and dirt. He picked his way along a path of moss, nibbling at the dew-soaked groundcover.
 The stag found himself deep in the forest, staring at the ruins in the distance. The stones peered through the treetops as the lone, crumbling structure bathed in golden sunlight. A dove blocked his view momentarily, also blocking him from a daydream. Page shook his head and meandered in the direction of the degrading church. Soon enough a well-worn path revealed itself. Trees created a beautiful tunnel of brown and green. A hundred years or more of constant travel by deer both great and small had created this path, though the buck did not register this. He just strode on until the clearing was reached. The gray walls towered above the whitetail. They, to anyone new, would be almost foreboding. It had taken days of daily travel here for the buck to understand that no humans would lurk here. He recognized it as a human structure, but had never scented the smart predators here. They must have abandoned it. he mused.

More lichens hung like curtains just past the young stag's reach. He rose to his hind legs unsteadily, but was not able to reach. A little dejected, the deer meandered over to a large slab of stone. Resting atop it, he discontentedly began to ruminate on his breakfast.

.

After the third time he brought up the cud it began to taste mealy. Page swallowed, a lightly disgusted look on his face. He had stared out at the vastness of the first forest for long enough. Those molten cocoa eyes were much too full of the scenery they had imbibed for the past couple of hours. Long, spindly legs announced that they did not appreciate being sandwiched between body and stone any longer. They punished him as he stood, blood flowing in and causing imaginary hornets to assault him. Page bit at this own limbs irritably.

The world bounced. Stone was replaced with soft grass, a release of burden on black toes. An equally black, velveteen nose was thrust skyward toward the sunlight. A warm hum rumbled in the buck's throat. Scents of evergreen, bird, squirrel, and warm rock danced on the air. Above all of them, though, was a scent that made the stagling's tail porcupine. As quickly as he scented it, the stag adopted an alert stance, ears pivoting as he scanned the world around him while his body is still as a statue. So who then?