✦ Morning draws a calm and gentle light over the dense jungle; sunlight not yet warm and golden, but a white-yellow beginning plucked from a silvery tinged powder blue sky. It’s calm; tranquil in a way unmatched by synthetic attempts at peace. The morning, that morning in particular, perhaps lamented the wistfulness that so commonly plagued Enoch in his endeavors through the mortal realm. Despite the bitterness that followed him like a spark of fading stars on the canvas of morning light, there were things about Agrelos that he could appreciate. The stillness of midnight; the curl of brightly hued spring-time flowers basking in leftover rainwater; and even the presence of morning, its gentle luminescence.
Still, there was a mugginess to the jungle air. He glanced between the lush foliage of treeline and undergrowth, paws entrapped by the border put up in place. He didn’t much care for or even really respect mortal establishments, but he was polite nonetheless. Enoch stood with lidded yellow eyes, patience a virtue strong within his hollow soul — thankfully. He hated that he had to be there, that he had to balance on the tightrope between life and death for the rest of his sorry existence. That coldness surrounded him in an icy sheen as he stood there on the border, not even sure why he was there. (Well, it was because he’d grown tired of sleeping in a hole nestled in the root system of that old oak tree on the Cuneus Islands, but that feeling of emptiness spoke more than boredom anyway).
Enoch just... stood there. Waited. His inexplicable tiredness of everything didn’t allow for much more.