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06-02-2014, 02:04 PM
i am the vanguard of your destruction
It was cold, hard going, toiling chest-deep through the waters (and they were rising, weren't they? just a few minutes ago it had hardly been over his knees), tail floating like a banner on the surface behind him. At times he could barely feel the soft ground beneath him, kicking for purchase through the thick waters, striking something and pushing on, further, deeper.
But he could never move quite fast enough. Were they coming closer? Probably; he could feel their chill breaths against his rump, ears flat as he struggled on, faster, but the sludge nearly turned to ice, and who the hell can force themselves through that?
Then, all of a sudden, the world crystallized, became covered in the finest, clearest of frosts, and shattered—breaking into a myriad pieces as he spiraled downwards into the darkness.
"Stop."
Even as she spoke, her voice nightmarish in and of itself, his eyes were coming open—not the slow flutter of someone who wakes, nor the sharp snap of someone startled. They simply opened, swift and precise, revealing the moon-blue to the world. He gazed at her with a clarity that masked the haze in his mind, and spoke with a clearness that was not at all reflecting the slow pace of his thoughts.
"Isn't 'wake up' more fitting?" he queried of her, the natural defenses of his mind making his tongue sharper than his actual state of mind; where had she come from? What did she want? Didn't she know it was creepy to sneak up on people and wake them when they slept?
Still, his charade kept him from blinking too rapidly, sleep having left a smear on his lenses. She was out of focus, a dark shape hiding by a large tree, at ease in this ghastly wood. He was willing to extend "creepy" to encompass all of her, from the traces of red shades on her feathers to the intense look she bore. Somehow, he felt it wasn't boding well for him, and at the same time, there was something so annoyingly familiar about her.. and still, he was sure he'd never met her before.
How bothersome, and he was not in a state fit to solve mysteries. Frankly, now that he'd had a taste of it, he wanted to go back to sleep, despite his lingering notion that he'd not rested easy.
But he could never move quite fast enough. Were they coming closer? Probably; he could feel their chill breaths against his rump, ears flat as he struggled on, faster, but the sludge nearly turned to ice, and who the hell can force themselves through that?
Then, all of a sudden, the world crystallized, became covered in the finest, clearest of frosts, and shattered—breaking into a myriad pieces as he spiraled downwards into the darkness.
"Stop."
Even as she spoke, her voice nightmarish in and of itself, his eyes were coming open—not the slow flutter of someone who wakes, nor the sharp snap of someone startled. They simply opened, swift and precise, revealing the moon-blue to the world. He gazed at her with a clarity that masked the haze in his mind, and spoke with a clearness that was not at all reflecting the slow pace of his thoughts.
"Isn't 'wake up' more fitting?" he queried of her, the natural defenses of his mind making his tongue sharper than his actual state of mind; where had she come from? What did she want? Didn't she know it was creepy to sneak up on people and wake them when they slept?
Still, his charade kept him from blinking too rapidly, sleep having left a smear on his lenses. She was out of focus, a dark shape hiding by a large tree, at ease in this ghastly wood. He was willing to extend "creepy" to encompass all of her, from the traces of red shades on her feathers to the intense look she bore. Somehow, he felt it wasn't boding well for him, and at the same time, there was something so annoyingly familiar about her.. and still, he was sure he'd never met her before.
How bothersome, and he was not in a state fit to solve mysteries. Frankly, now that he'd had a taste of it, he wanted to go back to sleep, despite his lingering notion that he'd not rested easy.
