05-14-2023, 05:56 PM
I'VE WALKED THE EARTH AND THERE ARE SO FEW HERE THAT KNOW
HOW DARK THE NIGHT AND JUST HOW COLD THE WIND CAN BLOW
HOW DARK THE NIGHT AND JUST HOW COLD THE WIND CAN BLOW
The mountain had changed him too, and he is still wrestling with it.
His sharp teeth had disappeared, as had his carnivorous appetite, but something else had been quick to fill the empty space. He cannot name it, but he feels it—the way his senses have heightened to the point it is nearly nauseating. He hears every sound, is overwhelmed by smells, and finds that his eyesight is sharper than it has ever been. It seems harmless enough, but could any change after what had happened on the mountain truly be considered harmless?
He didn’t think so.
Not after everything else that transpired.
He is certain that there is a catch to no longer craving meat—he just has not figured out what it is yet.
All he knows is that the nightmare had offered the storm—the one where he devours his own family — has not haunted him since, but instead the medley of nightmares that had swirled around him echoed in his sleep now instead. He did not know if that was a fair trade, to rid himself of his own nightmares only to be saddled with others.
He comes to the Ruins for a reason he does not entirely recognize; perhaps thinking the answer to his question lies somewhere amongst the rubbled history of a people that were not his own. All he knows is that this place is typically quieter than anywhere else, and he would have been content to stand here in his own solitude had he not heard her—her footsteps amplified by that unknown power he still does not understand—and he turns his glowing white head in her direction.
He does not recognize her as someone that had been at the mountain. He had been too distracted by the tornado and his own tormented thoughts to pay much attention to the others that had gathered, but he recognized something in her all the same; the haunted look in her eye, the sorrow that trails down her face, and despite his own longing for quiet and reflection he is soon standing nearly alongside of her to ask, “Is everything alright?”
His sharp teeth had disappeared, as had his carnivorous appetite, but something else had been quick to fill the empty space. He cannot name it, but he feels it—the way his senses have heightened to the point it is nearly nauseating. He hears every sound, is overwhelmed by smells, and finds that his eyesight is sharper than it has ever been. It seems harmless enough, but could any change after what had happened on the mountain truly be considered harmless?
He didn’t think so.
Not after everything else that transpired.
He is certain that there is a catch to no longer craving meat—he just has not figured out what it is yet.
All he knows is that the nightmare had offered the storm—the one where he devours his own family — has not haunted him since, but instead the medley of nightmares that had swirled around him echoed in his sleep now instead. He did not know if that was a fair trade, to rid himself of his own nightmares only to be saddled with others.
He comes to the Ruins for a reason he does not entirely recognize; perhaps thinking the answer to his question lies somewhere amongst the rubbled history of a people that were not his own. All he knows is that this place is typically quieter than anywhere else, and he would have been content to stand here in his own solitude had he not heard her—her footsteps amplified by that unknown power he still does not understand—and he turns his glowing white head in her direction.
He does not recognize her as someone that had been at the mountain. He had been too distracted by the tornado and his own tormented thoughts to pay much attention to the others that had gathered, but he recognized something in her all the same; the haunted look in her eye, the sorrow that trails down her face, and despite his own longing for quiet and reflection he is soon standing nearly alongside of her to ask, “Is everything alright?”
T I E R N E N
@Glaw