06-04-2021, 12:01 PM
kor
Early morning, a chill in the air.
It’s drizzling, but Kor doesn’t mind. He’s used to being cold and damp, remnants from his life Before in the mountains — memories he can’t quite shake. He and his sister playing in the rain, seeing who can make the biggest splash; his mother and the children huddling close for warmth, fuzzy coats soaked: a chill to the bone. Watching his father pace as a mountain lion, ready to protect his family as they slept, as Kor was supposed to be sleeping.
With a blink, the memories are gone, pushed back into the depths of his brain where he carefully stores his hurt. He swallows the catch in his throat and presses on.
He can see almost everything from his place on a small mountain. The plants are blooming — greens and reds and even purples — and he can faintly make out a lake, his view blocked by another cliffside. Kor had been in Beqanna for months now, laying low and watching (one of the many lessons of Before, taught to him by his father), and had heard of the kingdom of shifters, Hyaline. It wasn’t his family, but it could at least be a home.
He takes his first step onto the grass, soft under his feet. He sees others in the distance, and though he doesn’t know the protocol — does he wait to be invited? would they even notice if he’d joined them? as if they wouldn’t see the bright red boy immediately — he’s too nervous to approach them and ask. He isn’t even sure if his voice would work at this point; he hasn’t spoken to a soul since stumbling upon Beqanna.
So, instead, he walks (seemingly) coolly to the nearest river, an offshoot of the large lake in the center. He takes a sip, stalling, and then pauses, looking up to the sky. The rain has stopped.
It’s drizzling, but Kor doesn’t mind. He’s used to being cold and damp, remnants from his life Before in the mountains — memories he can’t quite shake. He and his sister playing in the rain, seeing who can make the biggest splash; his mother and the children huddling close for warmth, fuzzy coats soaked: a chill to the bone. Watching his father pace as a mountain lion, ready to protect his family as they slept, as Kor was supposed to be sleeping.
With a blink, the memories are gone, pushed back into the depths of his brain where he carefully stores his hurt. He swallows the catch in his throat and presses on.
He can see almost everything from his place on a small mountain. The plants are blooming — greens and reds and even purples — and he can faintly make out a lake, his view blocked by another cliffside. Kor had been in Beqanna for months now, laying low and watching (one of the many lessons of Before, taught to him by his father), and had heard of the kingdom of shifters, Hyaline. It wasn’t his family, but it could at least be a home.
He takes his first step onto the grass, soft under his feet. He sees others in the distance, and though he doesn’t know the protocol — does he wait to be invited? would they even notice if he’d joined them? as if they wouldn’t see the bright red boy immediately — he’s too nervous to approach them and ask. He isn’t even sure if his voice would work at this point; he hasn’t spoken to a soul since stumbling upon Beqanna.
So, instead, he walks (seemingly) coolly to the nearest river, an offshoot of the large lake in the center. He takes a sip, stalling, and then pauses, looking up to the sky. The rain has stopped.
those eyes, caught by surprise
if i look again, oh, what’s gonna happen then?
if i look again, oh, what’s gonna happen then?