[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:450px; text-align:justify; font-size:8pt; font-family:tahoma; line-height:120%;]Exploring, both as a concept and as an activity, is something that Winterchills honestly has little to no interest in. No, that was too mild. He had no interest in exploring at all.
Okay - no one would be wrong if they said that Winter was a Debbie Downer. Honestly, the only one that would be denying it would probably be a stranger immediately saying something like, 'no, that's not true,' and glancing over to him in sympathetic appeal, but not even Winterchills would defend himself from behind called a Negative Nancy. It was just true. Regardless, he had a reason; just that it was hard to get any real thrill out of exploring things, and dipping one's paws into every little niche and finding secrets and hidey holes in places like low-lit caves when they were just as much lit by nothingness to him. Winter found his way around by sliding his paws, inhaling in deep and slow to make sure nothing was directly in his path, and if he trod on a few rocks he'd failed to pinpoint then he'd long managed to grow a sort of reflexive dampener on his voice that cut his voice off in the middle of any swear words. Exploring as a fun hobby was just... unthinkable, to someone that'd rather be a rock.
Not a rock, per se. Rocks were very ... he could stand to be something cooler than a rock. Maybe a blade of grass, because at least the word 'blade' had some degree of admirability.
It wasn't as though Winter could revel in the sight of it which was half of the joy alone, the amazing ~* rare *~ discovery of something new and unique and interesting and beautiful. He'd sit next to his siblings at the crack of dawn with his eyes similarly barely cracked open while they hooted about the sunrise, eyes pale and flecked like a blizzard trained only drolly in the distance as he just waited for the time where they'd let him go to sleep again. If ever his siblings liked to traipse around a place, digging right into the nitty gritty nooks and crannies and pulling up bits and bobs of whatever, he'd settle himself somewhere and sigh loudly as a backtrack. Winter was boring, maybe, but he deserved at least a little slack; there was only so much joy to be had in stumbling blindly around a new area and trying to remember where everything was so he didn't trip over it later.
However. It was an inescapable thing, and better get it over with sooner than he fell over something and broke all the bones in his body from it, so there Winter was. Poking at things, mentally steeling himself to work more than the general ten meters he trekked at maximum every day - the works. He had to get ready for his cardio for the entire year, after all.
notes WHAT IS THIS,, this took so long and its such a .... sad little post im so sorry (winter is me spiritually & likes to complain into oblivioN)
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