December 25, 2017, 11:31 PM
(This post was last modified: December 25, 2017, 11:32 PM by Isengrim.)
The Barracuda, broken and worn crawls back towards the cliffs, ragged breaths turning even as he breathes in the ocean's crashing mist. Eventually, and in time, he reaches the familiar shore and collapses under the weight of his travels. The undersides of his feet are weathered in, harder than rock and scarred where they should not be. Exhausted he collapses, and shuts his eyes, pressing his face against the sand and burying himself under the noise of the tides, letting the familiar waves of his youth drown away the memories of the present.
He awakes disoriented a few hours later, inhaling a hard breath of sea water and shooting upright to find himself mildly soaked and emitting an ungodly stench. The water had revealed how battered he truly looked, noticing how miniature mounds of dirt had piled up around him in the form of his silhouette as he slept, leaving himself much cleaner than he had been yet still, smelling like a wet dog who had just crawled out of a sewer. Fucking disgusting, he thinks as he shakes himself free of the remaining water and settles about, looking for anything at all to eat.
He quickly realizes how open the setting he stands in is, lacking the greenery his months spend travelling in dense forestry differed from where he felt was home. It is unsettling. There are no trees to hide his shame; he is naked on for all the world to see his failures. To see how far he had fallen.
Time passes as he aimlessly wanders, swallowing the familiar ache of starvation as no hunt beside wretched crab lingers near. Not that he had the strength to hunt anyways. Displayed rips show the evidence of helpless survival, and the failure to do so. It is only the scent of another approaching that snaps him out of his disorientation, and his eyes peer in the distance, attempting to focus on the figure that trots along in his direction. He knows her. He knows her. Recognision churns within his mind and he lets out a strangled yelp before bounding towards her unceremoniously. Her name is lost in the catacombs of his memory but instinct pushes the fact that he knows her, and she is of his blood.
He awakes disoriented a few hours later, inhaling a hard breath of sea water and shooting upright to find himself mildly soaked and emitting an ungodly stench. The water had revealed how battered he truly looked, noticing how miniature mounds of dirt had piled up around him in the form of his silhouette as he slept, leaving himself much cleaner than he had been yet still, smelling like a wet dog who had just crawled out of a sewer. Fucking disgusting, he thinks as he shakes himself free of the remaining water and settles about, looking for anything at all to eat.
He quickly realizes how open the setting he stands in is, lacking the greenery his months spend travelling in dense forestry differed from where he felt was home. It is unsettling. There are no trees to hide his shame; he is naked on for all the world to see his failures. To see how far he had fallen.
Time passes as he aimlessly wanders, swallowing the familiar ache of starvation as no hunt beside wretched crab lingers near. Not that he had the strength to hunt anyways. Displayed rips show the evidence of helpless survival, and the failure to do so. It is only the scent of another approaching that snaps him out of his disorientation, and his eyes peer in the distance, attempting to focus on the figure that trots along in his direction. He knows her. He knows her. Recognision churns within his mind and he lets out a strangled yelp before bounding towards her unceremoniously. Her name is lost in the catacombs of his memory but instinct pushes the fact that he knows her, and she is of his blood.
the barracuda
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Messages In This Thread
Have you met my good friend Freud? - by Moor - December 25, 2017, 11:07 PM
RE: Have you met my good friend Freud? - by Isengrim - December 25, 2017, 11:31 PM
RE: Have you met my good friend Freud? - by Moor - December 27, 2017, 10:05 PM