so oftentimes it happens that we live our lives in chains. || merida

[Canaan]

Canaan

so oftentimes it happens that we live our lives in chains,

 He, too, knew the familiar ache of wanderlust – it kept him moving; always searching for adventure along a constantly shifting, changing horizon. He is as unruly and as unpredictable as the wind itself – as the wind that is a part of him as much as he is a part of it.  

  He had always been restless – since the moment his lungs had been filled with their first gasp of air, the adrenaline surged within his veins, and the wanderlust lingered in the very marrow of his bones. Though he had once been content to be nestled against the flank of his mother, the time had come in which he had to come into his own. Soon, the familiar ache for something else, for somewhere else had become overwhelming, and so he tore away from the proverbial heartstrings that kept him tied to the volcanic ash and molten rock that had been his own.

 The sun had risen and fallen many times since the day he finally pried himself away, tucking himself within the shadow of a dark, hazy evening without so much as a word to anyone. The days had turned into months, which eventually faded into years, and still his wandering heart urged him on, never sated to simply remain in any one place for too long. There were moments in which he longed for the familiarity of his mother’s touch, or the company of his sisters, but those were often fleeting and brushed away with the same stirring zephyr that lingered somewhere inside of him.

  He can see the very same uneasiness bubbling beneath the surface of her dark skin, perhaps in part because of the tension within her muscles – but the driving force behind their wanderlust is seemingly different; he feared nothing. There was nothing that he had found yet during his years that had stirred any sort of dread within the rolling pit of his belly, and so he cannot suppress the faint smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she seemingly unravels, uncertain as to what to do, or how to react – she did not seem at all comfortable outside of her solitude.

  ”Don’t worry about it, Merida,” he quietly utters, a rumbling chuckle rising from the depths of his throat, his gleaming hazel eyes settled upon her and her tangled, fiery tresses, tracing their wavy shape as they cascade over the curve of her cheek. ”The water here comes straight from the snowfall at the top of the mountain – so to answer your question, it’s freezing,” and his slight smile spreads into a lopsided grin. ”but what is life without a little risk?”

and we never even know we have the key.

@[Merida]