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07-05-2017, 07:51 AM
All was at peace. Around him the crickets chirped a quite melody, and the mists hummed, thrumming with soothing whispers of calm. Yet his small, delicately folded ears twitched, signs of interworking strains. Where the world was trying to soothe young souls like he to sleep, it was only ticking him awake like a clock.
The pale gold body shifted, restless. He wanted to sleep. Being born after all was quite exhausting. Yet it was his youth that was the curse. Others of more age are gifted with the blessing of fond memories in addition to their trials which ease the coming of dreams. Galahad was not so lucky. His only memories were two seconds of shock, and then the burning. Every moment after left hollow by the desire to not repeat it.
The small babe squirms. His sea blue eyes, still so new to the sensation, open, and see the night world around him. Even in the dull light of the moon, they hesitate at opening fully, squinting into the night at the strange shapes. Beside lies the sleeping others, his small body instinctively curls to them and their warmth, but still no miracle sleep comes from it. Eyes adjusting, he looks for the familiar in this world of still very strange things. He had watched what to do to stand and walk, maybe he was missing something now about how to sleep? Mama, she slept, but did show him how. Maybe another way….but where is… If Da was up, perhaps it was alright to be? Seeing some reason to rise from the wallowing, the small child lifts onto unsteady limbs and in the innocence of a babe, moves into the night.
New legs and dark shadows do not mix, but it was a stumble on a white looking stones that made him stop. These stones were not like others. They were smooth, and soft, with a pale color, etched with gold. The colt starred at these, enraptured by their beauty, drawn to them. He lay still, where he had fallen, letting his young mind absorbed by them and their strange etchings.
He was foolish, laying in the still cool of the night, away from mother’s side when he was yet so young, but he was innocent and naïve, caught in the crosshairs of curiosity and wonder. Bold through his youth.
OOC :: We're going to ignore the terrible table and pretend it all looks fine and dandy and wonderful.
"speech"
Posting Poetics
