Home.
A concept created to make creatures feel comfortable, to provide the false sense of safety, and most importantly, a place of habit one could return to at one's want and leisure. Home. A lie. A made up word. A myth. Home did not exist. It was an idea and nothing more. Ridley knew and understood this truth of the world. Home was not safe, nor comfortable. Anyone or anything could encroach on someone's 'home' and spread violence in its place. A 'home' could become engulfed in flames and swallowed alive, or it could become flooded, or it could be torn apart by the magical friction that was Akrasia.
Home. His heart longed for the comforts that such a place brought to a creature. He wanted a place to return to, a place to exist and belong, a place that offered him the false security of safety and temporary comfort. He could never have it, of course. His home had been ripped away from him at a young age, as did his life. It was a lesson learned and he wondered why Andromache had not educated him on it sooner.
The brute strolled through the jungle, ears rotating and twitching as song birds of his youth chirped and sang their merry tunes of the morning and rising sun. Light shafts split the canopy where it could reach it's long tendrils, illuminating and feeding the foliage with it's nourishment. He could hear the running of water as the river rocks disrupted the flow. It all sounded and felt so much like home that he wondered if he had traveled in time. No, he wanted to make himself believe that he had traveled through time. He wanted to believe that his siblings and beloved mother would come bursting through the undergrowth, enticing him with play, tricks, or an intriguing lesson.
The brute continued to stroll along, his posture casual as his tail and neck swung level with his back and accompanied each step. His silver gaze scanned the various foliage as he searched specifically for the yellow tops of the acmella oleracea. His supply was running low, and he needed its numbing properties to apply to his experiments. It was hard to focus with precision when they were squirming, after all.