Wheeling Gull Isle where the wind’s like a whetted knife
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Ooc — Pompoko
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#16
i'm going to say that Aris and Sosta were outside of Teekon Wilds when this post was happening, and we're heading south towards the coast, so the storm in this post isn't necessarily related to the oncoming hurricane

Aris and Sosta had finally left home. As soon as they'd turned one, they'd kissed their mom goodbye and flown the nest. The twins had always longed for adventure, they craved it, and this was their chance. They were very very young still, maybe too young for such a big journey. Maybe their youth was part of the problem.

They were in a forest, and the clouds above looked ready to burst. The curious and confident Aris told his sister it was fine, they'd be ok. A little rain had never hurt them before. But Sosta hadn't seemed too convinced. She had always been the more careful of the two, the one to keep them both out of trouble. But she watched Aris having the time of his life and she couldn't make him stop. In fact, she was having a great time too, so he wasn't the only one who didn't want to take a break.

When the rain started, it began soft, but it started to pick up. The earthy toned twins decided at last that it was time to find cover, but it was too late for that. They could barely see with all the rain, or hear. The wind was howling, and Aris was terrified. He started to run, assuming his sister was at his side, as she always was. He kept running, fear driving him on. He'd never been at such a loss for his senses, and not just his physical ones. He ran and ran from the thunder and lightning and the blinding power of the wind and rain, until the storm stopped. He realized then that he had no idea where he was, where Sosta was.

He called her name, he searched and searched, but they'd become separated. The storm had stopped for only a little while it seemed, or maybe he'd just outrun it. But more was coming, he could see it in the clouds behind him. This wasn't the last he'd see of the storm. After a while of looking, he decided that Sosta would be going south also. That's where they had decided to go, and she was the best navigator he knew, surely if he kept going south, he'd meet back up with her. Surely.

And so off he went, alone and soaked, and tired. Escaping a storm that had barely reached its peak.
Messages In This Thread
RE: where the wind’s like a whetted knife - by Aris - May 28, 2017, 05:30 PM