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06-28-2016, 06:19 PM
He was a tempest, he was a wave, he was a turbulent beast and a gallant fiend and everything all intertwined. He was a defiant mixture of the sublime and the tainted, the damned and the moral, the iniquitous and the divine – and every day, he wrestled and joined the serpents, the gods, the virtuous beacons, stepping over lines drawn in the sand (to be innocent, to be pure, or to simply follow the pathway of hate and its glorious ends).
And most of all, he was restless.
The boy soldier skimmed over the dunes and rushed at the gulls, laughing without menace, without malice, without desecration glinting amongst his gaze, ebullient and scattered along the shoal. He launched and leaped over towers of sand castles, extended his motions beyond side-walking crabs and legions of dried, cracked, broken shells, setting sail for the water, for the abyss, for the eternal, blue empire washed out before him.
Orsino grumbled on the shore, and Erebos ignored him entirely (freed from the ties, the tethers, of that constant, foxy mind – the reminders of his inabilities or the scorching calculations to fight, fight, fight, like it was his dying breath), racing for the undulating tide. When he reached its heralding specter, its calming siren song, he hurled himself into its bracken depths. Forelegs tucked against his chest, hind folded, and smile widened, the youth landed with a crash, with a splash, on top of its rolling regime, like a prince, like a king, like Poseidon forgotten, peering down at fish and whistling to distant whales.
Now what? he wondered, always stuck in the corridors of wanting and waiting, hesitating on truly bowing to fate, determined with fortune favoring the bold. If he were to clamber on and on, past the crying gulls, past the sinuous sharks, past the daring dolphins, what would await him? Were there more kingdoms, unknown and furtive, secret and specious, down below the depths, or beyond the horizon, glinting in the sunshine, awaiting capture? Were there more threats, more villains, more lives taken, shackled, tempted and abhorred? Did those on his list of vengeance wait there, pulled by the current, taken by the shadows, until he came upon them again – bid to rip them into shreds, to annihilate them into oblivion?
His feet nearly moved, rippled, across the vast plain of water, nearly screamed and screeched and scrambled against the tide, against the world, to search for endless opportunities (where friends didn’t die, didn’t disappear, didn’t forget him because he never forgot them), for undying revenge, for cold-blooded machinations and stolen oaths, assurances, promises that wouldn’t gather dust.
But something held him back. Something always held him back.
Then he was just a boy on the current again, basking in the glow of so many wiles and methods, schemes, trials, and tribulations he didn’t understand.
[Open to anyone! ^_^]
And most of all, he was restless.
The boy soldier skimmed over the dunes and rushed at the gulls, laughing without menace, without malice, without desecration glinting amongst his gaze, ebullient and scattered along the shoal. He launched and leaped over towers of sand castles, extended his motions beyond side-walking crabs and legions of dried, cracked, broken shells, setting sail for the water, for the abyss, for the eternal, blue empire washed out before him.
Orsino grumbled on the shore, and Erebos ignored him entirely (freed from the ties, the tethers, of that constant, foxy mind – the reminders of his inabilities or the scorching calculations to fight, fight, fight, like it was his dying breath), racing for the undulating tide. When he reached its heralding specter, its calming siren song, he hurled himself into its bracken depths. Forelegs tucked against his chest, hind folded, and smile widened, the youth landed with a crash, with a splash, on top of its rolling regime, like a prince, like a king, like Poseidon forgotten, peering down at fish and whistling to distant whales.
Now what? he wondered, always stuck in the corridors of wanting and waiting, hesitating on truly bowing to fate, determined with fortune favoring the bold. If he were to clamber on and on, past the crying gulls, past the sinuous sharks, past the daring dolphins, what would await him? Were there more kingdoms, unknown and furtive, secret and specious, down below the depths, or beyond the horizon, glinting in the sunshine, awaiting capture? Were there more threats, more villains, more lives taken, shackled, tempted and abhorred? Did those on his list of vengeance wait there, pulled by the current, taken by the shadows, until he came upon them again – bid to rip them into shreds, to annihilate them into oblivion?
His feet nearly moved, rippled, across the vast plain of water, nearly screamed and screeched and scrambled against the tide, against the world, to search for endless opportunities (where friends didn’t die, didn’t disappear, didn’t forget him because he never forgot them), for undying revenge, for cold-blooded machinations and stolen oaths, assurances, promises that wouldn’t gather dust.
But something held him back. Something always held him back.
Then he was just a boy on the current again, basking in the glow of so many wiles and methods, schemes, trials, and tribulations he didn’t understand.
[Open to anyone! ^_^]
Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want
