12-14-2017, 05:06 AM
He does not remember much, not of what had happened that day. He is full of red, and black and grey…. So much grey. Sometimes he would rather feel hatred or anger or sadness instead of this seemingly endless apathy, an emptiness which threatens to swallow him. Threatens, and carries it out, usually. Most days he is indifferent, he eats, he drinks, he sleeps. He feels very little, but when he does feel, the feelings come in brief bursts and leave him curled up with his nose against his belly, tight.
He doesn’t remember much. Perhaps it is a coping mechanism, to block it all out so he can continue to survive. He is good at that, surviving, he spent his whole childhood making a kind of half-life for himself, where he was safe. Disconnected and quiet, but safe. Thinking about it makes it worse, so he doesn’t think about it. Instead he looks at the leaves, the dewdrops (...dewdrops - the word stirs something in him but he tries to forget. It was a lifetime ago, after all). Admires the flowers. Says to himself ‘Nice flowers’. Eats some more. Sleeps, but mostly fails to sleep.
Tephra.
Watches the sunrise. Follows the curve of the hill with his nose. Eats. Sleeps. Doesn’t sleep. Wakes. Eats. Drinks. Sleeps. If they were anywhere, they would be at Tephra. Eats. Drinks. Doesn’t sleep.
The next day, with the sun rising across the hills, he stirs himself. Rises up, against, crosses rivers which barely seem to touch him (though his skin is wet). Despite the fact he had almost lived there once, he had never been there before. It was a long time ago - Offspring has probably moved on now. He hopes at least to find Maribel, if she has survived. Perhaps their children (though he doubts they would stick around and mope - they are strong, and wild, and free… his pride, their future, but most importantly, gone).
His hollow eyes scan their surroundings. He doesn’t know where their boundary is, doesn’t particularly care. Only an idiot would find a threat in him, more skeleton and dust than muscle and sleek fur these days. He stops. He eats. Drinks. Waits.
@[Offspring] @[Reagan] @[Maribel]
Anyone welcome to reply, if you want solo threads just say so!
He doesn’t remember much. Perhaps it is a coping mechanism, to block it all out so he can continue to survive. He is good at that, surviving, he spent his whole childhood making a kind of half-life for himself, where he was safe. Disconnected and quiet, but safe. Thinking about it makes it worse, so he doesn’t think about it. Instead he looks at the leaves, the dewdrops (...dewdrops - the word stirs something in him but he tries to forget. It was a lifetime ago, after all). Admires the flowers. Says to himself ‘Nice flowers’. Eats some more. Sleeps, but mostly fails to sleep.
Tephra.
Watches the sunrise. Follows the curve of the hill with his nose. Eats. Sleeps. Doesn’t sleep. Wakes. Eats. Drinks. Sleeps. If they were anywhere, they would be at Tephra. Eats. Drinks. Doesn’t sleep.
The next day, with the sun rising across the hills, he stirs himself. Rises up, against, crosses rivers which barely seem to touch him (though his skin is wet). Despite the fact he had almost lived there once, he had never been there before. It was a long time ago - Offspring has probably moved on now. He hopes at least to find Maribel, if she has survived. Perhaps their children (though he doubts they would stick around and mope - they are strong, and wild, and free… his pride, their future, but most importantly, gone).
His hollow eyes scan their surroundings. He doesn’t know where their boundary is, doesn’t particularly care. Only an idiot would find a threat in him, more skeleton and dust than muscle and sleek fur these days. He stops. He eats. Drinks. Waits.
@[Offspring] @[Reagan] @[Maribel]
Anyone welcome to reply, if you want solo threads just say so!