Avalon Part 1: It's Always Been You

Tattoo was all too familiar with the uniqueness of each tract he came across in his sightseeing. From the mystical forests of Arborea to the endless warm sea of his homeland, he always anticipated the exploration of new places. Better than being stuck inside with nothing new to stimulate his brain! More importantly, he has to bring something back for his beloved.

Perpetually the universal packer for his journeys, the Laguna had his necessities all with him. Bundles of rope, a tent, various fabrics, a first aid, packaged lunches, canteens of water, and most importantly, lubricant for his wheels; it was difficult to move on land without them. Of course Cinnamon was with him, he never went anywhere without that Rulat! More precious than his dearest plushes. The excursion of rolling on a makeshift cart, as he called it, wasn’t as difficult as it seemed! He was just… a funky wheelbarrow, whatever that is. He stole that word from that odd shopkeep Chad when he picked up a few items from him before. The Kella has demonstrated what a “wheelbarrow” was, and it was pretty spot on, Tattoo would say! 

The diversity of Avalon wasn’t challenging to stroll through, though definitely not effortless, as the buoyancy of water is invariably his go-to for commuting, and less painful when the trip was over. Avalon simply had a lot of foliage, rocks, sticks, and the scurry back and forth of fellow Lythians gathering resources for craft. Tattoo didn’t wish to partake, staying clear of the pathways and wishing to explore for a souvenir he didn’t get to grab while he was last here with Dieter. A very pleasant date with such neat-o critters! Also, forevermore easier to travel long distances with him. 

Regardless of Tattoo’s minuscule woes, he was here and the search was on. Cinnamon trotted ahead, though staying close enough to spin around and hop onto the cart with Tattoo if needed. Tattoo knew that, once he tire, he’d rest against his tail until he felt fit to wander alongside him again. Tattoo’s eyes were scanning the area, his eyes fell across a clash of colours along the lush green acreage. Marred by a dark pool, Tattoo drew closer… wait!

A pool? Maybe he’ll get to swim after all! There was some water he’d had to cross before, but this was clearly different. Very lovely, the purples swirled in front of his eyes; he had to get a closer look. Peering in, paws reached out to touch, only to he flinch away at the sudden movement within the pool. Even Cinnamon let out a hiss, scuttering backward into the cart and leaning heavily on Tattoo’s tail as if begging him to retreat. Eyes were glued to the pool, brain churning in desperation to know if they were able to evacuate safely or have to plant their metaphorical feet and fight. 

The figure rose, danger flaring, Tattoo shying back to shield Cinnamon from any harm. He wasn’t skilled in combat, but he would make a dent if he must. As the figure drew closer, his vision failing him entirely, the warmth of Cinnamon beneath his wing brought him the only comfort.