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+--- Thread: Gyrfalcon's Keep I built this hall of mirrors all myself (/showthread.php?tid=48135)
I built this hall of mirrors all myself - Themis - August 02, 2021
She’d left her sanctuary among the peaks, knowing full and well she couldn’t keep it even if she wanted to. What could one girl do without her people behind her? Nephele knew from the moment she drew breath that the world wouldn’t cater to her needs like it did those above her.
And even that was challenged, because she was still here, metaphysical blood streaking her fur, and they were dead. But she had nothing except a handful of interactions. For just a moment, there in that aching sunrise, she missed the Monkshood, so deep it almost took her to her knees as she climbed. The undying, the stubborn little rodent ground her teeth together, arching her head back up on a serpentine neck, and scrambled the last few feet until she was there. High above. The sun glinted metallic off the distant ocean water, the undulating waves looking like the great breath of some creature, the scales of a snake’s belly. There was rain coming, she could smell it on its way, but for just a moment, she had climbed here to look at the sunrise as the clouds broke for a few minutes and allowed her the sight she was looking at.
Nephele drew breath, shaky and uncoordinated, stuttering in suddenly uncooperative lungs. For just a moment, her heart tried to escape the confines of her bones, and she wanted out of her skin, just for a moment to breathe without feeling like something was clawing out of her chest. She was nothing again, a rodent in the eye of those around her, a damned runner destined for nothing with scarred legs and face.
She closed her eyes, and tried to will away the boiling in her chest.
RE: I built this hall of mirrors all myself - Chacal - October 19, 2021
High tide brought with it a dark shape feebly struggling along with the waves. Dawn cast a crimson hue along the horizon, turning the bay a shade of mahogany so deep the slip of a wolf might have easily gone unnoticed even to a keen observer. But once she reached the shallows her dark form contrasted enough with the frothy seafoam, even when she collapsed at the tideline.
Her pelt was soaked with saltwater and remained slicked against her form as she eventually pulled herself from the sand and the caress of the waves to try and piece together where she was. Her gaze was drawn toward the rise in the horizon; she might be able to tell where she was from a better vantage point. Anywhere was better than sea level. And so, she made her way inland at a trudge, worn out and beleaguered, climbing her way up the slope, her aim making her somewhat blinded to her surroundings like a carriage horse whose focus was guided by blinkers.