It was early yet when Aquillius slipped on silent feet from Sweetharbor’s shores.
He enjoyed it there, the little island an oasis of peace he did not know how to manage. He’d been hardwired all his life for work, to continue and push even when tired. From as soon as he could remember, he’d pushed.
The land bridge was covered, so he entered the water instead, a dark serpent across the water as his legs churned through the waves. He clambered ashore stronger than the last time he’d swam, salt clinging to the fine waves of his coat, to the porcupine quills of fur that spread from his neck in an odd mane. His single yellow eye found the distant mountains with ease, always drawn towards that home he’d had what felt like so long ago. Even now, he didn’t know if it had ever been home. Sweetharbor…he did not know what he felt about it either. They had healed him, helped him, given him peace he’d readily turned down. It wasn’t a stopover, but he couldn’t help but feel the restless stir in his breast. Maybe come spring, he’d go find his mother.
Maybe he’d climb his father’s mountain, showed him he still yet lived.
Aquillius’s whiskers dripped with salt.
He planted his front legs on a rock, water curling around his ankles, his nose raised high. It was too far, rationally, he knew, but he was possessed by an irrrational child’s want, and he saw no reason to not listen to it.
Head thrown back, he simply howled for @Germanicus, letting the noise pour from his chest like a fresh, new spring. Once it was done, the remnants of his voice drowned by the sea, then the boy would rock back shakily on his haunches, gasping his way into a bout of tears he did not know what to do with.
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and I hate the way the townspeople gather outside - by Aquillius - February 10, 2023, 07:39 PM