09-24-2017, 09:35 PM
It has taken several weeks, but she has finally made this place her own.
It is not a cave that she had set foot in before; few probably ever have. The mouth is on the short westward side of Nerine’s only island. Each morning the grullo mare can see the sun rise over the empty ocean.
Somewhere out there, is the Beqanna she knows. Farther still, is a world entirely beyond Beqanna.
The pull to leave is stronger here than it had been in the woods. (her views of the horizon had been obscured by countless trees). But she does not go, she instead turns back to the granite of her cave.
Sleek and grey, the sides and roof of her cave are granite so smooth it seems polished. It was scooped out by a seemingly endless number of waves – the cliff’s attempt to satisfy her wish of a perfect resting place. The grey sand of the beach covers the floor here too, but it is littered here and there with odd baubles. She has collected them in her time spent in Beqanna, returning to this same cave now and again after the Reckoning to deposit an item or two. It is mostly shells gathered these last few days: a large conch, several broken sand dollars, and a pile of glistening mother-of-pearl shells. There are a few other oddities; towards the back there is something pale and round. A skull with eyeless sockets and a pair of impressive tusks are all that remains of the walrus.
The sun has cleared the water in front of her, and it begins its ascent over the pale green waters. Djinni turns to head back into her gaze, brushing against the dunegrass that she had carefully carried down as seed from the cliff above. A bee buzzes up from the black-eyed susans beside the grass, and Djinni follows its flight path until it blends with the shadow of something else. She narrows her eyes to better see against the brightness of the sun, and she feels her heart catch in her throat at the familiar figure.
“@[Walter]?”
It is not a cave that she had set foot in before; few probably ever have. The mouth is on the short westward side of Nerine’s only island. Each morning the grullo mare can see the sun rise over the empty ocean.
Somewhere out there, is the Beqanna she knows. Farther still, is a world entirely beyond Beqanna.
The pull to leave is stronger here than it had been in the woods. (her views of the horizon had been obscured by countless trees). But she does not go, she instead turns back to the granite of her cave.
Sleek and grey, the sides and roof of her cave are granite so smooth it seems polished. It was scooped out by a seemingly endless number of waves – the cliff’s attempt to satisfy her wish of a perfect resting place. The grey sand of the beach covers the floor here too, but it is littered here and there with odd baubles. She has collected them in her time spent in Beqanna, returning to this same cave now and again after the Reckoning to deposit an item or two. It is mostly shells gathered these last few days: a large conch, several broken sand dollars, and a pile of glistening mother-of-pearl shells. There are a few other oddities; towards the back there is something pale and round. A skull with eyeless sockets and a pair of impressive tusks are all that remains of the walrus.
The sun has cleared the water in front of her, and it begins its ascent over the pale green waters. Djinni turns to head back into her gaze, brushing against the dunegrass that she had carefully carried down as seed from the cliff above. A bee buzzes up from the black-eyed susans beside the grass, and Djinni follows its flight path until it blends with the shadow of something else. She narrows her eyes to better see against the brightness of the sun, and she feels her heart catch in her throat at the familiar figure.
“@[Walter]?”