@Samothes - keeping some things vaguey vague
His encounter with the wolf in the mountains hadn't been too unproductive, and Zamael went north rather than south, picking his way down the mountains with care. Over a rise, an alpine lake revealed itself, shimmering blue in an early summer sky. For all his heart had hardened over the past two years, he still had the utmost appreciation for the beauty of nature, and he took a moment to stop and stare, fiery eyes lingering on the gentle waves.
Not to be forgotten, his tongue pressed dry against his teeth, reminding him how thirsty he was. With a resigned sigh, he made his way to the shore and began to lap at the cool water when he was there, resisting the urge to submerge his entire head. Watch him do that and someone show up just in time to see him make an ass out of himself.
Actually, who fucking cares, anyway? He went a step further, stepping down into the lake and bathing in the shallows. His breath came ragged in pleasure as it cooled his body, hot from the exertion of travel, and he paddled happily around for a while, nose lifted above the surface. His time with the seawolves had made him a competent swimmer, and he ventured a bit deeper for a while before turning back, his paws resting upon the stones lining the bottom of the shallows.
Creag, they'd called him. Rock. "Because ye sink like one, lad!" He could hear their roars of laughter now, as he struggled for air, the waves shoving his body to and fro. They'd pushed him in--a sort of initiation rite, of sorts. He'd made it back ashore, glowering, and they'd given him the seal of approval--but Creag unfortunately stuck.
Still. He'd lost his heart and soul when Alarian had told him Carvel was dead. He'd take being Creag over Arnlith's wrath any day.
Not to be forgotten, his tongue pressed dry against his teeth, reminding him how thirsty he was. With a resigned sigh, he made his way to the shore and began to lap at the cool water when he was there, resisting the urge to submerge his entire head. Watch him do that and someone show up just in time to see him make an ass out of himself.
Actually, who fucking cares, anyway? He went a step further, stepping down into the lake and bathing in the shallows. His breath came ragged in pleasure as it cooled his body, hot from the exertion of travel, and he paddled happily around for a while, nose lifted above the surface. His time with the seawolves had made him a competent swimmer, and he ventured a bit deeper for a while before turning back, his paws resting upon the stones lining the bottom of the shallows.
Creag, they'd called him. Rock. "Because ye sink like one, lad!" He could hear their roars of laughter now, as he struggled for air, the waves shoving his body to and fro. They'd pushed him in--a sort of initiation rite, of sorts. He'd made it back ashore, glowering, and they'd given him the seal of approval--but Creag unfortunately stuck.
Still. He'd lost his heart and soul when Alarian had told him Carvel was dead. He'd take being Creag over Arnlith's wrath any day.
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idfc - by Zamael - June 13, 2018, 11:41 PM