09-15-2020, 08:45 PM
I fell for your magic, I tasted your skin
There is the melancholy sound of a lone whippoorwill somewhere in the near distance.
It should be an omen, perhaps.
His Ma would have said so, certainly. His Ma would have told him to turn tail and find the water, find the current, find home. Of course Ma would have wanted him to come home. She would have welcomed him back into the fold. She would have fussed over him. Every stray, coppery tendril of his wild hair would be put back into place. She would tell him he looks thin and ragged; she would tell him to eat more ‘fore winter comes a‘steppin. She would kiss the top of his head and say he could stay as long as he liked a’course.
Hearing that whippoorwill should be an omen, would be to anyone else in his Clan.
Finian throws a withering look in the bird’s general direction, chortles to himself, and pushes ahead.
He’s not completely unfamiliar to Beqanna, after all. He had passed through half a year or so ago on his epic journey. It was meant to be a stepping stone into the greater world beyond, a place he could mentally check off and write off and never visit again. But there had been a catch. The last time he came, Finian went to the Mountain. And ever since then, the sunrise lands have rudely pushed their way into his thoughts.
Now, he finds himself hopelessly lost in the place. He loves being lost.
There’s a decent field he finds just beyond the shore he had beached himself on. Reasonably hungry, Fin makes his way slowly through the tall grasses, chomping as he goes. He’s utterly alone and rather discouraged at his quiet re-entry to Beqanna until he sees a pair of ladies in the near distance. With a compass to finally guide him, he plods in their direction. Poor Ma would have a lot to say about me chasing girls, wouldn’t she now? But he doesn’t make it to them. There’s the crunch of other feet and he turns -
It should be an omen, perhaps.
His Ma would have said so, certainly. His Ma would have told him to turn tail and find the water, find the current, find home. Of course Ma would have wanted him to come home. She would have welcomed him back into the fold. She would have fussed over him. Every stray, coppery tendril of his wild hair would be put back into place. She would tell him he looks thin and ragged; she would tell him to eat more ‘fore winter comes a‘steppin. She would kiss the top of his head and say he could stay as long as he liked a’course.
Hearing that whippoorwill should be an omen, would be to anyone else in his Clan.
Finian throws a withering look in the bird’s general direction, chortles to himself, and pushes ahead.
He’s not completely unfamiliar to Beqanna, after all. He had passed through half a year or so ago on his epic journey. It was meant to be a stepping stone into the greater world beyond, a place he could mentally check off and write off and never visit again. But there had been a catch. The last time he came, Finian went to the Mountain. And ever since then, the sunrise lands have rudely pushed their way into his thoughts.
Now, he finds himself hopelessly lost in the place. He loves being lost.
There’s a decent field he finds just beyond the shore he had beached himself on. Reasonably hungry, Fin makes his way slowly through the tall grasses, chomping as he goes. He’s utterly alone and rather discouraged at his quiet re-entry to Beqanna until he sees a pair of ladies in the near distance. With a compass to finally guide him, he plods in their direction. Poor Ma would have a lot to say about me chasing girls, wouldn’t she now? But he doesn’t make it to them. There’s the crunch of other feet and he turns -
Finian
ooc: any welcome! he needs a home and/or friends :/