He stands amongst the brush that thrives near the crystalline lake, eyes on the farthest shoreline as his tail snaps from one side to the other, lashing at the smooth hide of his flanks. There is a distinct bite to the breeze that stirs the greenery, heralding the colder months that await them in the near future. Normally, he might pause to lament the passing of summer (easily his favorite season, at least temperature-wise), but on this evening, he is too distracted by different trains of thought.
At least twice now, someone has asked if the Dale is his new home and each time, he has given no firm answer because he can’t seem to make up his mind. The Dale has been pleasant enough and its people kind and welcoming. He has heard that all of the lands have recently begun organizing beneath new leaderships, but he has not sought out she that wears the Dale’s crown. Maybe he should.
And yet.
Something keeps him from choosing this place. Perhaps it is the curiosity that picks at his soul and pushes him toward the Chamber, despite a lack of allegiance to her in the past. But he debates whether or not to select the Chamber as home, even though he has yet to set foot within her boundaries. It is an inevitable link, however tenuous, to his past, and he is hesitant to travel down that path again.
Then there are still the Gates and Pangea to consider. There is sure to be a long history behind the Gates, for some version existed when he last walked the surface; he wonders if the landscape is as heaven-like as it’s old name might suggest. On the other hand, he knows nothing of Pangea’s history, nor really what the climate and surroundings are like. There is a certain allure to the unknown aspects, yet he still holds back.
All this time quietly yearning for a home or for a purpose, or maybe for both, and now faced with a handful of options, he may as well be clinging to a fist full of smoke.
Perhaps because home is not always about a place to hang your hat, sometimes it’s about what you’re coming home to.
Unbidden, her image manifests in his mind’s eye. The uncertainty does not slip entirely from his being, but it fades from the foreground. Her presence, even the very thought of her, affords him a sense of comfort he is yet to find elsewhere. A part of him assumes that it is because she is the first creature he’d laid eyes on in a century or so, but the deeper crevices of his soul recognize that there is another reason, that something else is rooting and taking on its own new life.
They have been exploring this newest version of Beqanna, so it has been some time now since he has seen her. A faint, wry hint of smile curves his lips as he realizes this is why he has come to the water tonight. He watches the moonlight creep lazily across the gently rippling surface, quietly appreciating the white-gold softness it bathes the scene in.
Something tells him that she will be here tonight, so he waits and thinks of what to say.
assailant
"The comfort zone is always the most desirable place to be. But in settling for comfort, there is a price to pay and it comes in the death of ambition, of hope, of youth, and the death of self."
-Simon Barnes
@Adriana