10-03-2016, 06:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-03-2016, 06:20 PM by Stillwater.)
Stillwater
He'd been there. As she took control of the land, he'd been there, her rich black body taking command of her people. As her followers trickled in, faithful creatures of battle and heart, he'd watched in silence. As they fed from the land, lapped at her waters, every one of them... He was there for it all.
And as he was aware of her movements, she knew of his, too. She knew his dwelling of darkness, knew the hours he kept himself locked within, his blissful solitude. She knew when he fed, in the cover of darkness while the world slept. They'd never met, but they knew each other as one knows the false friend smiling in the face of each other's sweet lies.
Soon, she would come. Her people were amassing, needing her shelter and protection, and she knew the threat he could pose them. As she toiled to make this land a home, they'd lived side by side, in their separate parts of the world. And so, soon she would come, and lay down the laws and boundaries, rules that would bind him to her whims. Tighten his leash as she saw fit. A secret monster in her pocket.
He began leaving his cavern earlier, at dusk instead of twilight. His figure would haunt the hill. Watching. Waiting. Melting into the creeping darkness as night would arrive, and keeping silent vigil. He'd stand there for hours, unmoving, cool gaze peering into the distance. And then he'd return to his home, just before dawn, locking himself within before the tide would rise and hide his doorway beneath the sea.
For days, he did this. But tonight was different, tonight she would appear. He could feel the tension in the air, pulling tight and threatening to snap. He heard the whispers of the night spirits: she comes. you better run. she comes, she comes. But he would not run. Without an exchange of words or ever meeting, they'd sealed a silent contract of peace with one another. She would not harm him, he put an odd heart of faith in that. There was no spoken promise of such a truce, but he felt it was there nonetheless.
She would come, stake down his fence posts, trap him in his little corner of the world. And then she would leave, and they'd ignore each other's presence once again. As they had for so long already. It was only to keep him in line that she came. And he would let her, for now.
He stood on the same hill, in the same silence. And waited.
And as he was aware of her movements, she knew of his, too. She knew his dwelling of darkness, knew the hours he kept himself locked within, his blissful solitude. She knew when he fed, in the cover of darkness while the world slept. They'd never met, but they knew each other as one knows the false friend smiling in the face of each other's sweet lies.
Soon, she would come. Her people were amassing, needing her shelter and protection, and she knew the threat he could pose them. As she toiled to make this land a home, they'd lived side by side, in their separate parts of the world. And so, soon she would come, and lay down the laws and boundaries, rules that would bind him to her whims. Tighten his leash as she saw fit. A secret monster in her pocket.
He began leaving his cavern earlier, at dusk instead of twilight. His figure would haunt the hill. Watching. Waiting. Melting into the creeping darkness as night would arrive, and keeping silent vigil. He'd stand there for hours, unmoving, cool gaze peering into the distance. And then he'd return to his home, just before dawn, locking himself within before the tide would rise and hide his doorway beneath the sea.
For days, he did this. But tonight was different, tonight she would appear. He could feel the tension in the air, pulling tight and threatening to snap. He heard the whispers of the night spirits: she comes. you better run. she comes, she comes. But he would not run. Without an exchange of words or ever meeting, they'd sealed a silent contract of peace with one another. She would not harm him, he put an odd heart of faith in that. There was no spoken promise of such a truce, but he felt it was there nonetheless.
She would come, stake down his fence posts, trap him in his little corner of the world. And then she would leave, and they'd ignore each other's presence once again. As they had for so long already. It was only to keep him in line that she came. And he would let her, for now.
He stood on the same hill, in the same silence. And waited.
@[Naga]
go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it