January 21, 2022, 07:17 PM
the ragged leviathan that stirred upon the shores of blackwater was a spirit of far different make than those haunted revenants who had washed ashore before him. salt-breeze ruffled the dirty pale fur, masking the faint rise and fall of a bruised yet breathing chest. his dark-hooded head lay askew, tilted as if he had been stretching to look at something far past the sands. it seemed an eternity that he laid there, his hurts condensed into an all-over ache, a weakness that felt like dying.
and then the violent panic of survival grasped him, and the wolf coughed and shook and retched upon the sands. he cried out. he cursed. he retched again.
he was alive.
a great madness took him, then, and he lashed out. at himself, at the driftwood that had washed ashore with him, at the slimy plant debris of the sea tangled about his battered limbs. at the sands and the sea. everything. he saw red, only red. the world was cold and vast and he was lost in it, cast aside by she who he had trusted above all and drifting with nothing, nothing, and despite it all,
he lived.
the madness persisted. it persisted until his mouth grew bloody and his movements wild and weak, and beyond. nothing stopped him. nothing could stop him, never, he would die here and be done with it —
a voice, dream-like. unreal, yet it stopped him. had he truly fallen so low? had his mind turned on him in the most final of ways? druids. safe. no. those things didn't exist. perhaps once, before...
there stood a girl, dark as a moonless sky. her eyes burned into him. gold and indigo. indigo and gold. like night and day. a child, but ageless. wolf, but not. somehow.
and so the man followed her, limping and coughing, cursing his luck and his fate and the gods, wherever they were. perhaps they didn't exist. perhaps the end of life was a sort of purgatory, a place where time had no meaning and children with strange eyes wove the threads of fate.
he supposed he would find out.
and then the violent panic of survival grasped him, and the wolf coughed and shook and retched upon the sands. he cried out. he cursed. he retched again.
he was alive.
a great madness took him, then, and he lashed out. at himself, at the driftwood that had washed ashore with him, at the slimy plant debris of the sea tangled about his battered limbs. at the sands and the sea. everything. he saw red, only red. the world was cold and vast and he was lost in it, cast aside by she who he had trusted above all and drifting with nothing, nothing, and despite it all,
he lived.
the madness persisted. it persisted until his mouth grew bloody and his movements wild and weak, and beyond. nothing stopped him. nothing could stop him, never, he would die here and be done with it —
calm yourself. you are among the druids. you are safe.
a voice, dream-like. unreal, yet it stopped him. had he truly fallen so low? had his mind turned on him in the most final of ways? druids. safe. no. those things didn't exist. perhaps once, before...
no. NO!some nameless urge compelled him, and he turned, the full force of his rage on display for none but the sea and sands, and whichever gods might be laughing at him from above.
there stood a girl, dark as a moonless sky. her eyes burned into him. gold and indigo. indigo and gold. like night and day. a child, but ageless. wolf, but not. somehow.
who are you?he demanded, hackles rippling along his spine as unease chilled his veins. perhaps he was dead.
a ghost? a demon?
a prophet. a seer. your salvation,the girl beckoned to him, and he moved forward as if compelled.
i am the listener. come. meet my speaker. he will have answers for you.
and so the man followed her, limping and coughing, cursing his luck and his fate and the gods, wherever they were. perhaps they didn't exist. perhaps the end of life was a sort of purgatory, a place where time had no meaning and children with strange eyes wove the threads of fate.
he supposed he would find out.
powerplaying the listener as she is my character as well <33 @Tulok for reference. a follow up thread will be posted shortly.