Arron
The sky was the hazy gray of mountain daylight, a sharp frozen breeze dancing briskly across the snow-covered slopes. There was no birdsong like in the forests of Roraldi, only silence. And, then, the crunching of snow under pawpads. A Slynx, though the fearsome predators typically made no noise. That was, after all, the namesake of their titles as ghosts. This was an odd one, then. A Plush Slynx, no less, with a rather slender and thin build typical of elegant felines. As a matter of fact, he sort of looked like a girl. Arron was far from elegant and far from female (not far from feminine), however, stopping occasionally to kick the snow off of the back of his paws and legs. Or, perhaps, he would glance sharply around with his bright blue eyes. There was clearly fear within. But what should such a feline fear in their own domain, being of a species that was renowned for their poise and--
The Slynx stumbled over a rock embedded in the crystalline, twinkling snow, nearly tripping and instead staggering awkwardly to keep his already-flawed balance. Poise, indeed. It would have been embarassing, if it were not for the fact that he was completely alone. Or, at least, that was how it looked. To him, he was never truly alone. Anyone could be anywhere, and it was his responsibility to not die because he didn't realize that.
A thick, fluff-covered and rose-colored ear occasionally twitched to pick up noises, though there were none to be picked up except for the noise he created and the whistling of the cold mountain winds. Then he halted, looking quietly ahead of him. Unintentionally, he had approached Basantha Shrine. Something about it unnerved him, even though it was a shrine to the Holy Triumvirate. But it was not like he did not find fear in things that were supposed to be peaceful. Perhaps it was the fact that there were supposedly creatures within that could quite possibly devour him. Mekkayenas, for example. The Hunters were supposedly noble, but even they would terrify him if the two met. Perhaps it was- and this was even more likely- the fact that, well, Arron was a complete chicken. Or, more appropriately, a scaredy-Slynx.
Silence prevailed, however, and Arron stood quiet and alone (or that was how it appeared) alongside the stone stairs.