STANDING ON THE EDGE, FACE UP // Joining

[SETHIRAM]

Sweet dreams are made of this,
Who am I, to disagree?

The serval moved with grace, long legs stretching over fallen branches and large rocks until she halted at the border. The smell of sickness hung in the air, but she was very much healthy. It wasn't something Red could alleviate, she had to deal with it. Even the strongest scents of perfumes could do very little to muddle the disgusting scent. She could only scrunch her nose and shake her head.

If her presence at the border wasn't going to draw anyone over, it was going to be the scent. Or her own voice, which was bold and strong. "Hello? Is this place open to joiners?" As her voice echoed, she could only hope they could handle the sickening smell. Maybe she would fit in with the swamp.

— Reggan