May 18, 2017, 01:22 PM
(This post was last modified: May 18, 2017, 01:23 PM by Titmouse (Ghost).)
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They had all rested up after arrival, and none more thoroughly than Titmouse. He had dropped to the ground as soon as he'd realized the group had found their destination, and without even curling up he was asleep. Out like a light. His slumber was characterized by muscle spasms that, to any onlooker, would give the appearance that he was still running. At some point someone grabbed him by the scruff and carted him off (he was a small boy, even now) and yet he kept on sleeping, as if determined to recoup as much of his lost energy as he could. The group was probably relieved by his absence among them; temporary though it might be, Titmouse was an aggressor, a pest, an irritant - and many of Rannoch's family would be in need of rest. Yes, his absense was a blessing.
Nobody was aware of how deeply the bear had corrupted him. How that single undignified moment had shifted something within him. Not even Titmouse would be fully aware of it, although his mind tried to work its way through the trauma of his near-death as he slept, and his dream was an immaculate reconstruction of events:
—it was with hurtling speed, a breakneck charge, that he rushed the other boy, yellow fangs jutting from his maw as he neared, a heavy forepaw set to deliver a blow to the small wolf, the paw like a club in its strength— The bear, fifty times his size, a great black pit of a mouth surrounded by a boulder-shaped body cleaved from the mountain itself —yellow fangs jutting from his maw— and he was paralyzed. Alone. There was no Rannoch here, no Cypress tailed by Redshank, no Rian, no Liffey; Titmouse was alone to face the giant and all he had was a pebble without a sling. The beast became stone; it rose up on its hind legs and around it, through it, from it, spanned the mountain. Its eyes were a shining yellow at first - burning and malevolent - but they shifted too, becoming the spark of light caught in the beryl.
As Titmouse witnessed the glimmer of those eyes, the spark he recognized from tossing the stone, the dream abruptly ended. He jerked awake with a squeal in a place he did not recognize, surrounded by mountains and shadows, cloaked in a mental fog from the deepness of his sleep, and without meaning to he felt his bladder release.[/td][/tr][/table]
They had all rested up after arrival, and none more thoroughly than Titmouse. He had dropped to the ground as soon as he'd realized the group had found their destination, and without even curling up he was asleep. Out like a light. His slumber was characterized by muscle spasms that, to any onlooker, would give the appearance that he was still running. At some point someone grabbed him by the scruff and carted him off (he was a small boy, even now) and yet he kept on sleeping, as if determined to recoup as much of his lost energy as he could. The group was probably relieved by his absence among them; temporary though it might be, Titmouse was an aggressor, a pest, an irritant - and many of Rannoch's family would be in need of rest. Yes, his absense was a blessing.
Nobody was aware of how deeply the bear had corrupted him. How that single undignified moment had shifted something within him. Not even Titmouse would be fully aware of it, although his mind tried to work its way through the trauma of his near-death as he slept, and his dream was an immaculate reconstruction of events:
—it was with hurtling speed, a breakneck charge, that he rushed the other boy, yellow fangs jutting from his maw as he neared, a heavy forepaw set to deliver a blow to the small wolf, the paw like a club in its strength— The bear, fifty times his size, a great black pit of a mouth surrounded by a boulder-shaped body cleaved from the mountain itself —yellow fangs jutting from his maw— and he was paralyzed. Alone. There was no Rannoch here, no Cypress tailed by Redshank, no Rian, no Liffey; Titmouse was alone to face the giant and all he had was a pebble without a sling. The beast became stone; it rose up on its hind legs and around it, through it, from it, spanned the mountain. Its eyes were a shining yellow at first - burning and malevolent - but they shifted too, becoming the spark of light caught in the beryl.
As Titmouse witnessed the glimmer of those eyes, the spark he recognized from tossing the stone, the dream abruptly ended. He jerked awake with a squeal in a place he did not recognize, surrounded by mountains and shadows, cloaked in a mental fog from the deepness of his sleep, and without meaning to he felt his bladder release.
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Messages In This Thread
Lemon children! Go forth! - by Titmouse (Ghost) - May 18, 2017, 01:22 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Rian - May 18, 2017, 03:19 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Titmouse (Ghost) - May 18, 2017, 04:17 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Rian - May 20, 2017, 12:05 AM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Titmouse (Ghost) - May 21, 2017, 12:41 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Rian - May 21, 2017, 03:16 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Titmouse (Ghost) - May 22, 2017, 12:06 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Rian - May 22, 2017, 07:11 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Titmouse (Ghost) - May 22, 2017, 07:21 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Rian - June 09, 2017, 12:52 AM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Titmouse (Ghost) - June 12, 2017, 01:04 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Rian - June 14, 2017, 01:06 AM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Titmouse (Ghost) - June 17, 2017, 09:10 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Rian - June 29, 2017, 06:39 PM
RE: Lemon children! Go forth! - by Titmouse (Ghost) - July 30, 2017, 03:43 PM