06-08-2019, 08:08 PM
The River has always been a favorite of his. It has its own unique beauty, something he’s studied for a long time, but still has no real words to describe it. It is a feeling, and next to it is the Forest which is almost as nice as the River’s edge or its moss-bed groves. He has been wandering in the shadows of the River for a few weeks now, finding nothing of particular mention and enjoying the solitude.
Today starts as any other, the birds, the mists; the warm summer sunlight. Golden morning rays filter through the veined leaves to dapple over his black body while he moves under the sentinel trees, white speckles painted over his coat’s matte darkness like stars on a moonless night. The birds here know him by now and are not alarmed as he strolls down the banks of the gushing trail of sparkling mountain water. Bugs annoy him, moving with him in biting little clusters until finally he cannot bear it any longer and finds a mud hole to flop himself into. He’s thorough, caking himself in the thick brown mud-paste and continues his walk a little less annoyed. He follows the riverside until he’s in the Forest, the trees creak and moan their hellos, the critters seem to flit out of his eye-sight – all but the resident ravens and magpies who seem ever curious and creep along to watch him.
It takes him half the day, at a sluggish and casual pace, to reach Hyaline. Why? He’s not sure, but to counter that question with a perfectly good question; why not? He hasn’t been here since his professor days, but it smells the same, feels the same. No rogue children running about eager for a mentor, or frazzled leaders trying to sort out how to educate the little masses. It is quiet. The lake’s ruffling waters catch the mid-day light to create a glittering surface. He arrives at the lakeshore rather tentatively, he is indeed a trespasser, but he sees no one and proceeds to walk to the sandy edge of the lake.
CHEMDOG
to the window, to the wall
to the window, to the wall
@[Kensa]
