[center][img]https://see.fontimg.com/api/rf5/OYRo/MGEzYmViNDRkZjEyNGMzYzkzOTBkOWZhZjg5MzI2MTUudHRm/Um9zaGFuIE5hdmVlZA/wild-growth.png?r=fs&h=119&w=1250&fg=848B79&bg=FFFFFF&tb=1&s=95[/img][/center] [color=#848B79]"Oh yes, socializing. I suppose I could chat with Antero a bit if that will satisfy you,"[/color] Roshan nodded absently. Although his brief swim may have washed away the nervous sweat that had beaded his neck earlier, he couldn't deny that a part of him was still reluctant to return to the party scene. His desire to please those he respected was stronger however, and so he couldn't deny Nieve in the least. Instead, he tried to find comfort in the fact that her presence would accompany his return. He just hoped he wouldn't disappoint her too much by forcing her into a role she wouldn't want. With Nieve's hand in his own, Roshan began the gentlemanly task of leading her back toward the garden path. The warm scent of the surrounding garden and refreshing mist of the forest beyond mixed together and filled his being. Soon, he would be trading it with the human perfumes and candle smoke inside. He much preferred the sweet smell of honey. A warning flashed in his head. Honey? That was innocuous enough, welcomed even. He would've loved to simply bask in the blanket of aromas, but the all-too-familiar crawl along the back of his neck refused to allow him to relax. [color=#848B79]"We should go the other way,"[/color] he spoke simply, his deep voice sounding detached and unfeeling. He gave no further explanation, as he pulled his hand free from Nieve and grabbed one of the twisted horns that hung from his neck. The scene: A happy reunion. A quiet, calming solitude. Who would fit the stage best? Roshan swiftly settled on the horn of his mother—soothing and determined—and placed the open tip to his lips. Just as the soft and joyful notes began to leave the other end, the hum of rot rolled across the garden and began to mingle with the smells. Roshan likened it to overly ripened and decaying fruit, or parasites hiding in refuse. [i]Getsuy[/i] was here. Yet as the stench continued to invade, Roshan's radiant song marched on unaffected. [color=#848B79][i]Fuck.[/i][/color] He would much rather utter profanties and expletatives. [@Lunari] [@BunniesOfDoom] [@Ducksworth]