06-27-2021, 02:48 PM
R I P T I D E
He is not made for the water, but he is drawn to it.
Though the only thing inherited from his kelpie father is frost-covered scales, there was still an intrinsic love for water, one that he cannot ignore. There was nothing in his outward appearance to suggest such a thing, and he supposes he looks out of place standing along the shoreline. From his snake-shaped head and sharp fangs, down to the rattle of his tail, he looks every bit like a creature that might have been more at home in dry hills or hot deserts. Instead, he stands at the edge of the coast, watching the shadow-black waves as they roll in from the sea, a silver beam of moonlight catching the white-capped tops of them as they break against one another.
He has seen his father and sister disappear beneath the surface countless times, and while he does not feel jealousy, there is a pang of longing. It did not matter how many times they described it, or how vivid of a picture they painted, it was still something he would never be able to share with them.
He has his mother, though, both of them scale-skinned and poison-fanged, and so he does not sit in that longing forever. He does not regret being more like her—she is beautiful and fierce, and seemingly unafraid of anything. When his father and sister would go into the sea Sabbath would stay with him, and he wouldn’t trade those moments with his mother for anything.
Riptide turns to walk parallel to the coastline, casting his sage-green eyes upwards. The clouds have moved and shifted, smothering the moon and the scattering of stars, and without their light the world is plunged into an eerie darkness. It is reminiscent of the eclipse, and he feels a tug of discomfort pull in the pit of his gut, one that he carefully tries to bury away.
Distracted, he does not see the mare that stands alone just ahead of him. He catches a glimpse of her pale skin from a bare thread of light that breaks beyond the cloud cover, and he is too close to simply ignore her, though it is tempting. “Sorry,” he tells her, pausing to try and make out the shape of her face. “I was just passing by.”
Though the only thing inherited from his kelpie father is frost-covered scales, there was still an intrinsic love for water, one that he cannot ignore. There was nothing in his outward appearance to suggest such a thing, and he supposes he looks out of place standing along the shoreline. From his snake-shaped head and sharp fangs, down to the rattle of his tail, he looks every bit like a creature that might have been more at home in dry hills or hot deserts. Instead, he stands at the edge of the coast, watching the shadow-black waves as they roll in from the sea, a silver beam of moonlight catching the white-capped tops of them as they break against one another.
He has seen his father and sister disappear beneath the surface countless times, and while he does not feel jealousy, there is a pang of longing. It did not matter how many times they described it, or how vivid of a picture they painted, it was still something he would never be able to share with them.
He has his mother, though, both of them scale-skinned and poison-fanged, and so he does not sit in that longing forever. He does not regret being more like her—she is beautiful and fierce, and seemingly unafraid of anything. When his father and sister would go into the sea Sabbath would stay with him, and he wouldn’t trade those moments with his mother for anything.
Riptide turns to walk parallel to the coastline, casting his sage-green eyes upwards. The clouds have moved and shifted, smothering the moon and the scattering of stars, and without their light the world is plunged into an eerie darkness. It is reminiscent of the eclipse, and he feels a tug of discomfort pull in the pit of his gut, one that he carefully tries to bury away.
Distracted, he does not see the mare that stands alone just ahead of him. He catches a glimpse of her pale skin from a bare thread of light that breaks beyond the cloud cover, and he is too close to simply ignore her, though it is tempting. “Sorry,” he tells her, pausing to try and make out the shape of her face. “I was just passing by.”
— i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door —
new thread to make it Not Eclipse, but based off the starter I never replied to lmao
@alleria