10-31-2016, 12:36 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-05-2016, 10:04 AM by Stillwater.)
ooc: he went on a bit of a rant. feel free to skip to the last four paragraphs or so
Stillwater
It seemed his perfect coastline could no longer hold him. He'd chosen to exile himself from the place they'd named Nerine. What once was a peaceful solitude, quickly grew to a raucous disturbance of bickering wretches. Even the walls of his cavern below the sea could not restrain their squawking from his sanctuary. All they ever did was fuss at each other and whine, make demands and look down on her.
Why their queen did not line them up and flay some respect into the insulting peons was beyond him. He'd nearly done it himself. But he saw the writing on the walls, and he wasn't about to stick around for the filthy mess they would soon make of his little paradise.
They walked all over her. She was queen, but they were the rulers. Somehow these archaic, primitive barbarians could form speech and control her. All the deals and promises he and his queen could have made would have been meaningless. It would hold no weight when the squabbling brats talked over her and made their own demands on him. And she would have let them. Initiation ritual?
Over their dead bodies.
He'd already seen what was to come. They'd make their noise, then the whole territory would grow quiet. An uproar would flare up suddenly, and in the wake and ripples of its passing her kingdom would fall to rubble and dust. And he sure as hell wouldn't be there when it happened.
He'd left immediately and gone underground, isolating himself completely until they would forget he even existed. Out of sight, out of mind. Like he was never there.
Now he was in this hell-hole of a hodge-podge of bodies like some vagrant. The caves at the edge of the Meadow could hardly be called such; pathetic, shallow scoops out of the earth. Nothing like the intricate passageways of his glorious cavern. Some other poor bastard was confined to them as well.
For the most part, the two of them had kept out of each other's hair. On the rare occasion they did cross paths, they said nothing; only nodded to their fellow recluse and kept right on with their business. It was an unspoken arrangement: I'll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine.
At dusk, most of the bums skittered off to their own little corners of the world. He'd wait until night had fully fallen before venturing out into the open to feed. Normally his dark coat swallowed the dim moonlight and shrouded him in anonymity. But tonight he'd enjoyed his dip in the tide and the light danced along his wet spine like glittering stars.
A presence eventually came forward. He ignored it. Sometimes they did that, approached him and expect him to spout off pleasantries. His endless silence usually got the point across, so he didn't even hesitate and kept right on grazing.
Shoo now, don't bother me.
Why their queen did not line them up and flay some respect into the insulting peons was beyond him. He'd nearly done it himself. But he saw the writing on the walls, and he wasn't about to stick around for the filthy mess they would soon make of his little paradise.
They walked all over her. She was queen, but they were the rulers. Somehow these archaic, primitive barbarians could form speech and control her. All the deals and promises he and his queen could have made would have been meaningless. It would hold no weight when the squabbling brats talked over her and made their own demands on him. And she would have let them. Initiation ritual?
Over their dead bodies.
He'd already seen what was to come. They'd make their noise, then the whole territory would grow quiet. An uproar would flare up suddenly, and in the wake and ripples of its passing her kingdom would fall to rubble and dust. And he sure as hell wouldn't be there when it happened.
He'd left immediately and gone underground, isolating himself completely until they would forget he even existed. Out of sight, out of mind. Like he was never there.
Now he was in this hell-hole of a hodge-podge of bodies like some vagrant. The caves at the edge of the Meadow could hardly be called such; pathetic, shallow scoops out of the earth. Nothing like the intricate passageways of his glorious cavern. Some other poor bastard was confined to them as well.
For the most part, the two of them had kept out of each other's hair. On the rare occasion they did cross paths, they said nothing; only nodded to their fellow recluse and kept right on with their business. It was an unspoken arrangement: I'll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine.
At dusk, most of the bums skittered off to their own little corners of the world. He'd wait until night had fully fallen before venturing out into the open to feed. Normally his dark coat swallowed the dim moonlight and shrouded him in anonymity. But tonight he'd enjoyed his dip in the tide and the light danced along his wet spine like glittering stars.
A presence eventually came forward. He ignored it. Sometimes they did that, approached him and expect him to spout off pleasantries. His endless silence usually got the point across, so he didn't even hesitate and kept right on grazing.
Shoo now, don't bother me.
go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it