the Rift


[OPEN] Come here, Histe, there are things we should talk about

Skywalker Posts: N/A
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#1


I'D RATHER DIE ON MY FEET THAN LIVE ON MY KNEES.

He watches the sunset.

For a long moment he has stood – alone – in the sands that break the toll of the ocean. He watches the sky burn, as if death itself was undone in hungry flames on the horizon. Forceful red and merciless violets, envious gold and vulgar pinks all exploding in a garish display of the sun’s triumph and impending fall. Skywalker watches his namesake burn and knows that the skies will burn for him: wild and glorious and intense – a triumphant fanfare of light to his sovereignty. He moves along the shoreline with plumes of choking sunlight illuminating his black body, now it is accented in gold, now shadowed in blood – but his face remains emotionless even though the spectacle of light reflects fiercely in his pale eyes. He is the conqueror (never mind that he is thin of shoulder) and in due time they will know his name.

Steadily, as he imagines his ascent to immortality, the spectacle on the horizon diminishes and chokes until the light is no more. He stares out to sea and with the night comes the waves. Froth-tipped and hungry, showcasing white ridges that could just as well be the tumbling corpses of seagulls, the water coils about itself and roars into the night. Skywalker walks along the beach, contemplating things and impossibilities, mulling over the future of his new home and in consequence, the future of himself. The salty air clings to his mane and whips his tail into a spindly cascade of black, he inhales, savoring the saline chill. But wait; there is something there that does not quite belong; a heavy, rotting scent that he, by now, knows too well. The marsh. He lifts his head and his ears swivel this way and that, but the only sound he can register is the perpetual roar of the ocean. No, there is someone else here; that distinctive stench only clings to those stupid enough to reside in the marsh for an extended period of time. His eyes bound over the coastline – here and there he sees dark silhouettes, some horned, some winged, some with some other monstrous malformation. But none of his herd-mates…

He stops, looking inland, and a question suddenly pops into his head. Why would he seek out the company of those he so feverishly despise?


S K Y W A L K E R.
Histe

Words: 389
Sorry about nonsensical post and long wait, I suck at these. Next one will be better <3 <3



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