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+--- Thread: Ankyra Sound rāpa (/showthread.php?tid=48730)
rāpa - Kissimi - October 12, 2021
It would be unwise to wander too close or linger too long. Not all wolves were fond of her kind.
It was a risk even to turn her sights upon the depths of the wild, temperate jungle — the likes of which had never graced her gaze of lilac sunrise. The scents of many clung to the thick roots that wound through the soft loam, a damp black mulch that squeezed between the pinkpads of her paws with every step. Comings and goings. Of strangers like herself. Of a group, whom she presumed lived nearby.
But the sky was darkening as the sun fell towards the horizons. She had walked far that day and her jaws ached where they had remained parted and locked around the otter skin carried there.
Imi had lost the crash of the waves, for much of the seaside in these lands was out of reach — down below the sheer cliffs that occasionally broke to allow access to the water. The she-dog had been forced to turn south and skirt around the bluffs. She could hear the sea somewhere close by, though the thick press of the trees blocked it from view, and smell the salt on the wind.
It would not do to go searching at nightfall, break her neck tumbling over an unseen cliff or dip in the forest floor. Perhaps in the morn. She might even be lucky enough to wrangle a fish to break her fast.
For now, the Samoyed curled herself in the roots of one of the massive trees — selfish giants who let no other grow in their shade save for the moss and peat that crawled over their trunks. It was a relief to settle the skin between her forelegs, but even better was the treasures inside: dried strips of caribou and traveling herbs for her aching pawpads.
It was a risk even to turn her sights upon the depths of the wild, temperate jungle — the likes of which had never graced her gaze of lilac sunrise. The scents of many clung to the thick roots that wound through the soft loam, a damp black mulch that squeezed between the pinkpads of her paws with every step. Comings and goings. Of strangers like herself. Of a group, whom she presumed lived nearby.
But the sky was darkening as the sun fell towards the horizons. She had walked far that day and her jaws ached where they had remained parted and locked around the otter skin carried there.
Imi had lost the crash of the waves, for much of the seaside in these lands was out of reach — down below the sheer cliffs that occasionally broke to allow access to the water. The she-dog had been forced to turn south and skirt around the bluffs. She could hear the sea somewhere close by, though the thick press of the trees blocked it from view, and smell the salt on the wind.
It would not do to go searching at nightfall, break her neck tumbling over an unseen cliff or dip in the forest floor. Perhaps in the morn. She might even be lucky enough to wrangle a fish to break her fast.
For now, the Samoyed curled herself in the roots of one of the massive trees — selfish giants who let no other grow in their shade save for the moss and peat that crawled over their trunks. It was a relief to settle the skin between her forelegs, but even better was the treasures inside: dried strips of caribou and traveling herbs for her aching pawpads.
RE: rāpa - Njord - October 16, 2021
Haunt’s loss deeply wounded Njord. Fresh with grief, the seafarer descended the cliffs to seek emotional refuge. His body felt hot, expression caught between sadness and rage as if it could not decide between the two.
The sound of waves breaking on the pitted sea caves drowned out the hurt. The smell of the sea refreshed him. Without hesitation Njord cast himself into the frigid water. He swam for a bit, and then merely let the sea take him like flotsam, pulled along the shore by a rip current. His mind fell silent as he drifted into a blank, but meditative state.
The sun dipped lower and lower until it touched the horizon. Liquid rays of yellow, red, and pink flashed until the color faded into darkness.
Njord’s toes began to hurt, and then his limbs grew numb… with a spattering huff (like water out a blowhole), Njord churned his legs and made his way back to shore. Sopping wet and shivering, he dragged himself past the stone grotto into the woods where he spied a figure of brilliant white curled up beneath a tree.
The redtail gasped as if lightening hit him. “Haunt??” he shouted, convinced it was his friend’s ghost resting peacefully in the autumn twilight.
RE: rāpa - Njord - October 28, 2021
Wrapping this up as Kissimi went inactive~
Perhaps he had startled her. In any case, the white wolf slipped away into the dark forest. “Haunt!!” Njord cried out again, pursuing the specter… but he could not chase her long. The frosty air bit at his wet skin as his joints became painful and stiff from the long ocean swim. The seafarer breathed heavy and felt as if a large stone choked his throat. “Come back,” he pleaded. Yet there would be no response except the silent whistling of wind through the boughs of coastal pines.
He was alone once more.