I've been waiting for the tides to change,
for the waves to send you my way
He is still coming to grips with himself.
He had been such a bold and confident boy, exuberant in his play and eager to make new friends. On both the island and beyond, Volos had been quick to explore, to test boundaries, and to push further than he should. His parents had praised his precociousness rather than stifled it. They valued bravery and courage above all – especially Titanya – and he had been keen to make them proud.
There is still that part of him somewhere inside, he thinks, but it is tucked away in the same darkness that once blanketed the land.
Almost dying will do that.
Dawn breaks over the forested horizon. Volos raises his golden gaze to it just as the sun climbs over the far treeline and begins to pool in the thick, dewy grass. It is already hot despite the early hour, and it won’t take long before the grass is completely dried out. He imagines what it would have looked like with the eclipse still hanging in the sky above. He pictures the stunted, dying grass and the ribby, starving horses scrounging for anything they could find. Haunted and hunted eyes look back at him in his imagination. The sound of screaming and snarling and suffering all plays back through his memories.
Now, there is only the sound of birds and the soft swishing of tails as early risers find their first meal.
He tips his chin down to partake himself, feeling his companion gripping tighter to his withers as he does so. His mind wanders as he grazes. He redirects his thoughts when they turn too grim, tries to remember happier, carefree days before everything changed. It is a herculean task, he finds, and it is easier to blank his thoughts instead. It becomes quiet – hypnotically so, even – and a great deal of time passes before Volos snaps out of it and realizes that he is no longer chewing.
When he looks up again, the crowd has grown near the edges of the trees and it is no longer so quiet. Still not ready for small talk, Volos heads towards the same line of trees he had watched the sun rise above. It is cooler under the interlocking canopy. Darker, too, and he is unnerved by his relief in both facts. He considers leaving and is about to slip through the trees when he hears someone. He lifts his head and shifts his body to intercept whoever has wandered so close.
He had been such a bold and confident boy, exuberant in his play and eager to make new friends. On both the island and beyond, Volos had been quick to explore, to test boundaries, and to push further than he should. His parents had praised his precociousness rather than stifled it. They valued bravery and courage above all – especially Titanya – and he had been keen to make them proud.
There is still that part of him somewhere inside, he thinks, but it is tucked away in the same darkness that once blanketed the land.
Almost dying will do that.
Dawn breaks over the forested horizon. Volos raises his golden gaze to it just as the sun climbs over the far treeline and begins to pool in the thick, dewy grass. It is already hot despite the early hour, and it won’t take long before the grass is completely dried out. He imagines what it would have looked like with the eclipse still hanging in the sky above. He pictures the stunted, dying grass and the ribby, starving horses scrounging for anything they could find. Haunted and hunted eyes look back at him in his imagination. The sound of screaming and snarling and suffering all plays back through his memories.
Now, there is only the sound of birds and the soft swishing of tails as early risers find their first meal.
He tips his chin down to partake himself, feeling his companion gripping tighter to his withers as he does so. His mind wanders as he grazes. He redirects his thoughts when they turn too grim, tries to remember happier, carefree days before everything changed. It is a herculean task, he finds, and it is easier to blank his thoughts instead. It becomes quiet – hypnotically so, even – and a great deal of time passes before Volos snaps out of it and realizes that he is no longer chewing.
When he looks up again, the crowd has grown near the edges of the trees and it is no longer so quiet. Still not ready for small talk, Volos heads towards the same line of trees he had watched the sun rise above. It is cooler under the interlocking canopy. Darker, too, and he is unnerved by his relief in both facts. He considers leaving and is about to slip through the trees when he hears someone. He lifts his head and shifts his body to intercept whoever has wandered so close.
volos
@Colby