12-11-2019, 02:04 AM
Beneath oceans and mountains, soil and life, dust and bones—
He paces. Back and forth, back and forth, until it feels as if his paws are raw and the stone is worn to his perpetual path. Occasionally a huff or a snarl echoes off of the gray walls, indicating that he is breathing, despite his robotic movements appearing otherwise.
How long has it been since Litotes has seen the light of day? The predator that has taken over his mind begs and pleads to be released from his handmade prison, but the last self-aware piece of his brain keeps him here—
Pacing.
There is a final snarl, one that is a little more frightening and alive than the ones from before. As if wading through water, the pale lion trudges from the pebble strewn and damp cavern to the light of Beqanna’s sun.
Perhaps he has been beneath the ground for too long, for what he believed to be the sun is actually the moon, and even that light is harsh on his eyes. Lie digs long, rock-sharpened claws into malleable dirt. A purr builds in the back of his throat, one so pleased by the destruction of the grass and dew beneath him that he nearly rubs his head against a boulder to his right.
Golden eyes reflect the silver of the moon and stars: Litotes rediscovering the goddess he so worshipped when he first arrived in Beqanna. His lips lift just the tiniest bit as he lifts his nose to the breeze . . .
Prey?
Low to the ground and frightening in his hunger, Lie prowls, hovering within the shadows of leafy bushes and tall grass. Darkness he does not notice rushes to him, cloaks him, protects him—its eager arrival is nothing to him, as is all of his magic (hazy memories of being an equine remain sealed in the back of his mind).
The scent leads and Litotes follows, anticipation building in his empty stomach.
He paces. Back and forth, back and forth, until it feels as if his paws are raw and the stone is worn to his perpetual path. Occasionally a huff or a snarl echoes off of the gray walls, indicating that he is breathing, despite his robotic movements appearing otherwise.
How long has it been since Litotes has seen the light of day? The predator that has taken over his mind begs and pleads to be released from his handmade prison, but the last self-aware piece of his brain keeps him here—
Pacing.
There is a final snarl, one that is a little more frightening and alive than the ones from before. As if wading through water, the pale lion trudges from the pebble strewn and damp cavern to the light of Beqanna’s sun.
Perhaps he has been beneath the ground for too long, for what he believed to be the sun is actually the moon, and even that light is harsh on his eyes. Lie digs long, rock-sharpened claws into malleable dirt. A purr builds in the back of his throat, one so pleased by the destruction of the grass and dew beneath him that he nearly rubs his head against a boulder to his right.
Golden eyes reflect the silver of the moon and stars: Litotes rediscovering the goddess he so worshipped when he first arrived in Beqanna. His lips lift just the tiniest bit as he lifts his nose to the breeze . . .
Prey?
Low to the ground and frightening in his hunger, Lie prowls, hovering within the shadows of leafy bushes and tall grass. Darkness he does not notice rushes to him, cloaks him, protects him—its eager arrival is nothing to him, as is all of his magic (hazy memories of being an equine remain sealed in the back of his mind).
The scent leads and Litotes follows, anticipation building in his empty stomach.
