Wheeling Gull Isle we sailed an ocean, and drowned in a wave
Read Only  May 23, 2017, 02:32 PM
Aria
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aria's stranding.

it was not her fault.

as wave after wave crashed down upon her pale body she repeated, over and over, that it was not her fault.

she struggled as anyone would, not strong enough a swimmer to master the angry sea. she felt it, the anger. someone was here, and someone was mad, but she did not know them. their soul was anxious, chaotic, and it called upon the sky to tear into the heart of the land. aria had gotten caught in it's path, but she was not to blame-- it was not her fault.

a vision of a shadow and a flash of red haunted her mind. as she drowned in the waves it was all that she could think about. the thought consumed her, time that should've been spent planning her escape from the ocean was spent in confusion and dismay at what had happened, how she had gotten here-- and yet somehow she couldn't remember it all. another flash of something-- running-- and the hint of pain in her shoulder-- a chase? how was she here? she had left the sea the moment she'd noticed it's rage. she could not remember-- she could not think. visions of pain and fear and a unrecognizable shadow haunted her last conscious moments until darkness consumed her.

and then awake-- and confused. she did not remember the shadow, or the chase. she did not remember her soul-seeking journey, or moonspear. she forgot constantine. she forgot casmir, and deirdre, osprey, dante, eilidh and lasher. she forgot donnelaith, the home she'd learned to love and then hate. her life fell back a year ago, back to her journey to the teekon wilds. a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed aria january was here to make a name for herself. everything was back to a better time-- mentally-- and despite a sharp pain in her shoulder and a pounding headache, aria was able to sit up in confusion-- wondering how she'd managed to get here instead of a pack, like she'd promised her mother.

her tongue smacked against the roof of her mouth, salty and dry, wincing as she began to place pressure on her bad shoulder. her pale gaze searched the island before something crashed into her brain-- a memory. it was faded and made no sense to the proud, january girl, but the dark, handsome face of a amber-eyed boy crossed her mind, and something called a floki grabbed for her attention with greedy, grubby paws.

but, it made no sense to her-- none of this did. her last memory was a drink at a river-- in the middle of winter. confused and deciding something must've been a weird dream, she pushed it aside and headed inland to find clean, fresh water.