ORIGIN

The days blended into each other seamlessly, and Yarrow barely paid them any attention. It was easy, when one didn't have anyone to pay a call on or speak to. He made his way through the caves anonymously, silently, hardly trying to be unseen, but gaining that result nontheless. In some matters is was good - he hardly knew how to behave around others - but in others it was difficult. As the days passed and his scrawny limbs grew longer and more adept, his voice grew quieter and more broken, hardly able to produce a sentence without a stutter or two thrown in.

It hardly mattered when the voice went unused in the quiet of the caves, but still. It was a matter of principle.

So he quietly mused to himself while he sat amongst the comfortable leaves of the jungled forest, warm and homey to his small frame. He'd taken a couple of tall willow reeds from Cetus and had taken to weaving them together along with some flowers he was sitting amongst here in Eridanus. It calmed him explicitly, the process of creation, as nothing else did.

But today the willow reeds were being difficult, too young and spry to stay in place. They wanted to be free and stand straight, and nearly refused to bend. He sighed a little under his breath - he'd have to pick older reeds next time, ones that were already leaning.