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+--- Thread: Stavanger Bay You know what they say, no man's an island, no. (/showthread.php?tid=46054)
You know what they say, no man's an island, no. - Sunhawk - January 09, 2021
RIP Umbra :(
Sunhawk hadn't seen Umbra for days.
While it was custom for him to disappear without warning, Grumbra was different. One couldn't waltz down the beach without seeing her form darken it. Sunhawk began to worry, which was very uncustom for him. Sunhawk simply didn't worry. It wasn't in his life's MO. But where the hell had Umbra gone?
He began to patrol the edges of the territory looking for her. A scent permeated the area near the Sentinels (boogey place, that) so Sunhawk followed his nose. Given Stavanger was a cove of sorts, he didn't anticipate he'd have much trouble looking at those borders. It was sheer cliff wall from most of what he could see.
Still that smell persisted. Sunhawk's worry began to mount. He wasn't the brightest shell on the beach, but he could do some basic math - like 2+2=5 and all that, or dead smell + missing captain = unfavorable outcome.
The smell was foully strong when he was facing west. Sunhawk began to nose around the fallen rocks. There was something between the boulders and the sand, a deer maybe? Sunhawk peered up at the cliffs above with a frown, turning back to the body.
Once he was on top of it, he realized it was no deer. The pelt was an unmistakable deep ocean black. The fur... Sunhawk blanched as he looked upon his friend's face, her body broken to the point it looked like she'd hit every rock on the way down. "Oh... bloody hell." Sunhawk whimpered, cradling Umbra' s head between his paws.
Now Sunhawk believed he was a manly man (the manliest of mans, even) but seeing his friend reduced to a grease spot of blood splatter and bone on the sand brought sobs to his lips. He kept looking from the top of the cliffs back to Umbra's stiffened body.
He knew the story, but he didn't want to accept it.
It couldn't be true.
It wasn't real.
Not his friend.
Not Grumbra.
RE: You know what they say, no man's an island, no. - Aniuk - January 11, 2021
Through broken clouds she danced until a down-draft pushed her towards a slough heavy with snow, and there she hastily grasped for purchase among the blanketed trees. A branch sags and scatters snow in her wake. She tucks her wings with care.
There was a poorly manifested shadow gathering among the rocks below. She turned her head. A whimpering drew her attention — a sob breaking free somewhere beneath her — and she is silently observing.