Frustration drove him out of the jungle, into more open spaces. The first time he'd run, nose-first, into a tree, it had been annoying. The twelfth had been infuriating. Whatever the cause of the strange fog hovering over the land, he wished it would burn off or move on already. Caught between annoyance and curiosity, both directed at the phenomenon, he drifted between them on an almost hourly basis. Currently he was annoyed.

At the very least, after quite a bit of trial-and-error, and trusting his own mental map of the lands, he'd finally found the edge of the watering hole that meant he'd made it to the fields that bordered the jungle treeline. It gave him a landmark to follow, tracing the edge and, luckily, going without running into a bank of strangely-solid mist. Again.

Only once he'd circled around to put the open fields ahead of him did he bother to pause. Here, the fog had thinned out to the point he could navigate by sight, rather than memory and chance, but the annoyance lingered. His favored area to explore was blanketed today, which meant even amusing himself around his den was out of the question.

Amaryllis had proven to be a strange land, in it's own ways, but this was beyond expectations. The various biomes that could be found were odd enough, adding to that was the seemingly spontaneous black beach, and now something as ridiculous as solid fog. Sherlock huffed, frowning at the haze weaving through the trees some distance away, "If you could do me a favor and move on, that would be brilliant." Half-muttered, with no expectation of a response, it hardly seemed like the most absurd approach to dealing with the mystery. As strange as the land was, maybe the mist itself was sentient. Who knew! He'd already eliminated the more sensible causes, and was slowly straying further into the absurd.

@Watson

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Watson had somehow managed to navigate his way through this new and rather strange land. He'd heard whisperings of Amaryllis on his ventures south, but he was not expecting this when he'd arrived. there was confusion and curiosity on his brow: what on god's green earth had he come to? was this where @Sherlock had been hiding? the heavy and intriguing nature of the mist that seemed to hang lower than your average early morning fog was almost certainly something that his friend would be interested in. and why wouldn't he? it was abnormally average yet distinctly strange, with enough edge to it to summon the sociopath.

pale limbs tread carefully through the unknown peninsula as the palomino male attempts some sort of navigation. it was difficult to know where exactly he was going, but the man had enough about him to know not to go running into trees without a perfectly good reason. sherlock, however, did not. there were no surprises there - he needed watson to keep him on the straight and narrow, but also to encourage him. to observe. his right foreleg was irritating him, and with a grunt and a twitch of his ear, the doctor sighed audibly with some infuriation.

the fresh smell of water caught his attention and it dawned on him that he'd found a watering hole. it was curiously empty, given the myriad of creatures and animals that lived across the vast peninsula. this, in itself, was suspicious and watson couldn't help but be intrigued by such abnormality. moving off his original path, he made his way to the water's edge. his limp disappeared, and he lowered his muzzle down to the water. taking a few sips, the male took a moment to taste the water. nothing new - it tasted metallic and of nothing all at once, just how water should be.

confusion continued to etch its way across his brow as a strong feeling of uncomfortableness grew in the pits of his stomach. something wasn't right, and the only answer he could give was this divergent fog that hung over the territories in the distance. it wasn't until he heard a voice in the distance did his head snap away from the rippling water. he recognized it almost immediately - why wouldn't he? "sherlock?" he murmurs to himself initially, rising to his paws and moving toward the general area where his friends voice had come from.

eventually the darker man's figure came into view, and there was no surprise when he saw the evident confusion on his face. he had obviously gotten himself caught up in the mist, and time on his own had caused his sociopathic tendencies to get worse. "that's no way to talk to an old friend," watson remarks as he steps in front of sherlock, preventing him from moving on any further.

Briefly, he paused to drink, hoping the water remained safe and wasn't contributing to the heavy mist that blanketed the land. He'd really rather use someone else as a test subject to learn what effect it had if that was the case, but he could see no visible sign that the phenomenon was rising from the watering hole itself at the moment and so it seemed an acceptable risk.

Straightening, he moved on, continuing to follow the bank with the intent of eventually moving on to the open fields. If he got lost in the haze, well, he supposed there was only so far he could go before he reached the ocean again, and then it was only a matter of following the coast until he circled back around to the jungle in which he'd made a home. Unexpectedly, he only made it a few more feet before a figure began to take shape ahead of him.

Sherlock squinted briefly as the shape of a lion came into focus, pausing in his wanderings. The color, the gait, the voice...they were all familiar. Extremely so, in fact; a version of the man lived in his mind and it wouldn't be the first time his inner world blended with the outer. He tempered his excitement for the moment, head tilting as he observed the man for clues to whether he was real or not. "Hm. Real @Watson or Mind-Watson?" At this point, he wouldn't be all that surprised if this was another trick of the mist. If it could be solid in places, who knew what else it could do? While he was hesitant to let himself get too excited over the arrival of his (probably only) friend, he couldn't help but hope the man was, indeed, the real thing.

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