12-30-2016, 07:35 PM
“Right,” he breathes and makes his way into the tunnel.
He’s not made it far at all when the being appears, that fickle fiend named Time. A man and yet not a man, a lion gracing his features with a regal flair, walking as two-leggers walk. “I cannot go where I am sending you,” and that snaps Druid to attention, his roving eyes finding the face, the cat-like pupils, the lips and tuning in. “I can not send you by a direct route either,” Time goes on and Druid’s face goes from interest to knowing, Time was wanting something of him, of course he was. “Save her,” he says before disappearing and the livered stallions lips draw a flat hard line.
“Save her, right, of course,” he huffs because it is always so. Save the girl, be a hero, do my bidding- tool. Tales of crusades always went this way and Druid had done such a fine job merely listening or telling such tales. Now he must perform one and the idea was less than thrilling. He was no knight, no hero.
Yet of course Time was one such entity he could be persuaded or convinced to do something like this by. Time was an essential part of balance in the world, just like the rocks, the trees. Everything relied on Time, just as they relied on air to breathe, water to drink and yet time was more consuming than any one thing. Time only takes, it does not give. There is only so much of it to be had.
As Time exits, light fills the tunnel, urging Druid onward and he follows it because where else might he go? Another tunnel, a way out and yet it is clearly not that, not as one might suspect. It is a way out and it is a way forward, the suspense to know what’s waiting is too much and thus he does not turn back- knowing full well he could.
At the end of the tunnel he hears the lullaby of waves and upon emerging he sees them. They lap the sand, kissing the shore with practiced affection. Tiny shells dot the waters edge and the tepid air blows against his skin with a pleasantness. This salty air is new and refreshing, if not a bit bitter compared to the consistent flower perfumed Meadows and pine filled Forests. He has no time to really enjoy it either, a land bridge clearly visible just below the azure surface of the water, the tide will not be out forever. An island looms in the distance, just hardly visible against the cloudless sky, merely a blot against the horizon. The livered stallion takes care as he crosses, his hooves parting the shallow water with a slush, splash, slush as he moves. Every now and again he catches a slick spot, sliding to one side of the narrow walkway, his heart jumping through his throat with each uneven lurch. “Mother help me,(Mother Nature, naturally) the walk alone will be my end, never mind saving the girl,” he barks after yet another close call.
About midway across, the path splits, forking to the right and then to the left. Take right and choose fire, the mountain too large to miss, the smell of acrid smoke finding its way to him as he watches it billow in clouds of ash above the behemoth. Take left and choose darkness, a dense Jungle springing up from the earth and even from here Druid knows that his journey would be lightless. Either way he will have to traverse through the water first, taking a step and feeling the icy brine splash against his forearm and elbows- the shock causing his teeth to rattle.
His steps are hurried now, murky eyes darting around, feeling much too small and vulnerable in the icy ocean waters. There are ripples in the surface not far, random splashes here and there and he tells himself, “just fish” but he knows it could be much more. Each breath seems to cost him, working much harder now to move against the waves, it’s not so easy walking against as he would have thought, no matter how simply it drips from one's mouth after a long drink.
Drink. He’s thirsty but knows he cannot refresh himself here, might as well drink poison and it is why he’s chosen the Jungle. Surely there will be something there to sate the dryness of his mouth.
It’s more struggle, the water rising, the tide coming in and he practically throws himself at the sand as he reaches the Jungle shore.
Save her. How much time does he have?
His auburn head shakes, he stumbles once and rights himself before he takes a steady pace into the trees. Birds call in loud shrieks and babbling song, he’s forced to slow as the leaves take the light and then Druid stills, waiting for his eyes to adjust. A hiss in the dark makes his head jerk and it feels as though something slithers against his leg. Keep moving, he thinks and takes a ginger step forward as things unknown rustle the foliage. It goes like this for a time, for what feels like forever because even though he progresses he feels as if the world has stopped once more.
Splash
A leg sinks into water as he crumbles forward from the step but before he can think his lips race forth, and he is drinking, sweet, sweet liquid. Mud, brack. Oh how his legs shake now, the water so good, filling his belly as he inhales what he doesn't swallow, rising in a fit of coughs. Catching his breath again he makes to move, to press onward for his journey but he asks his leg to move and it doesn’t. Won’t. Can’t. The bog is thick, sticky mud cuffing his leg like a vice and with each pull it sinks, Not good, definitely not good. “What the hell?” he asks himself, asks the Jungle too because how can she forsake him so? Tug, sink, tug, frown. Why did he choose the Jungle again? Oh right, water.
He simply can’t just pull himself out, each counter only digging him deeper in the muck, his free legs bending to accommodate his awkward pose. The livered stallion takes to looking around, what can he use, what can he seek for help when he simply has no means to do so alone? Some vines, just there but how can he reach them? Will he be able to pull himself out?
Rustle, growl.
The leaves stir, he can just barely make them out as they tremble but he doesn't need to strain too hard because the golden pelt emerges, crouched and ready. A jaguar paces, smelling his fear as it leaks to the whites of his eyes. Druid’s nostrils flare, wide, a whuff of air leaving him as he tosses, slipping further to his doom. No, no, no. Not for a girl, not like this, he begs himself, craning his neck to thick green ropes, lips searching.
Closer, closer the cat creeps, prowling from the brush with such ease, and soon Druid knows the feline will gain, will leap and then it will be over. All over.
Green, he can taste it, brown lips latching the hanging vines, teeth finding them next as he frantically attempts to live. And he does, yanking the solution though he knows not if it will hold but luck smiles on him and he forces himself up and out- squealing. She catches him just so, raking her claws at his chest as he struggles to gain his footing, blood wetting the earth as she finds his fleshy mass. He roars, emitting a sound deep from within- pain, horror, anger. Rearing up, his legs lashing out like swords, smacking her face and receiving a fierce snarl. Hah! he would say but there’s really no time and he can only think to run now, run away. And they ache, his legs, but he moves them, biting his cheek against the hot heat at his chest. Now running blind in fear in the Jungle is probably as stupid as you can get but that doesn’t matter now, living matters.
Save her.
So he runs, eats the earth with his legs and tells himself it doesn’t hurt. Forward, left, right, jump, forward. He runs and he crashes through the dense treeline, skidding to halt in a clearing that holds a hut.
Save her.
Yes, but who will save him?
He’s not made it far at all when the being appears, that fickle fiend named Time. A man and yet not a man, a lion gracing his features with a regal flair, walking as two-leggers walk. “I cannot go where I am sending you,” and that snaps Druid to attention, his roving eyes finding the face, the cat-like pupils, the lips and tuning in. “I can not send you by a direct route either,” Time goes on and Druid’s face goes from interest to knowing, Time was wanting something of him, of course he was. “Save her,” he says before disappearing and the livered stallions lips draw a flat hard line.
“Save her, right, of course,” he huffs because it is always so. Save the girl, be a hero, do my bidding- tool. Tales of crusades always went this way and Druid had done such a fine job merely listening or telling such tales. Now he must perform one and the idea was less than thrilling. He was no knight, no hero.
Yet of course Time was one such entity he could be persuaded or convinced to do something like this by. Time was an essential part of balance in the world, just like the rocks, the trees. Everything relied on Time, just as they relied on air to breathe, water to drink and yet time was more consuming than any one thing. Time only takes, it does not give. There is only so much of it to be had.
As Time exits, light fills the tunnel, urging Druid onward and he follows it because where else might he go? Another tunnel, a way out and yet it is clearly not that, not as one might suspect. It is a way out and it is a way forward, the suspense to know what’s waiting is too much and thus he does not turn back- knowing full well he could.
At the end of the tunnel he hears the lullaby of waves and upon emerging he sees them. They lap the sand, kissing the shore with practiced affection. Tiny shells dot the waters edge and the tepid air blows against his skin with a pleasantness. This salty air is new and refreshing, if not a bit bitter compared to the consistent flower perfumed Meadows and pine filled Forests. He has no time to really enjoy it either, a land bridge clearly visible just below the azure surface of the water, the tide will not be out forever. An island looms in the distance, just hardly visible against the cloudless sky, merely a blot against the horizon. The livered stallion takes care as he crosses, his hooves parting the shallow water with a slush, splash, slush as he moves. Every now and again he catches a slick spot, sliding to one side of the narrow walkway, his heart jumping through his throat with each uneven lurch. “Mother help me,(Mother Nature, naturally) the walk alone will be my end, never mind saving the girl,” he barks after yet another close call.
About midway across, the path splits, forking to the right and then to the left. Take right and choose fire, the mountain too large to miss, the smell of acrid smoke finding its way to him as he watches it billow in clouds of ash above the behemoth. Take left and choose darkness, a dense Jungle springing up from the earth and even from here Druid knows that his journey would be lightless. Either way he will have to traverse through the water first, taking a step and feeling the icy brine splash against his forearm and elbows- the shock causing his teeth to rattle.
His steps are hurried now, murky eyes darting around, feeling much too small and vulnerable in the icy ocean waters. There are ripples in the surface not far, random splashes here and there and he tells himself, “just fish” but he knows it could be much more. Each breath seems to cost him, working much harder now to move against the waves, it’s not so easy walking against as he would have thought, no matter how simply it drips from one's mouth after a long drink.
Drink. He’s thirsty but knows he cannot refresh himself here, might as well drink poison and it is why he’s chosen the Jungle. Surely there will be something there to sate the dryness of his mouth.
It’s more struggle, the water rising, the tide coming in and he practically throws himself at the sand as he reaches the Jungle shore.
Save her. How much time does he have?
His auburn head shakes, he stumbles once and rights himself before he takes a steady pace into the trees. Birds call in loud shrieks and babbling song, he’s forced to slow as the leaves take the light and then Druid stills, waiting for his eyes to adjust. A hiss in the dark makes his head jerk and it feels as though something slithers against his leg. Keep moving, he thinks and takes a ginger step forward as things unknown rustle the foliage. It goes like this for a time, for what feels like forever because even though he progresses he feels as if the world has stopped once more.
Splash
A leg sinks into water as he crumbles forward from the step but before he can think his lips race forth, and he is drinking, sweet, sweet liquid. Mud, brack. Oh how his legs shake now, the water so good, filling his belly as he inhales what he doesn't swallow, rising in a fit of coughs. Catching his breath again he makes to move, to press onward for his journey but he asks his leg to move and it doesn’t. Won’t. Can’t. The bog is thick, sticky mud cuffing his leg like a vice and with each pull it sinks, Not good, definitely not good. “What the hell?” he asks himself, asks the Jungle too because how can she forsake him so? Tug, sink, tug, frown. Why did he choose the Jungle again? Oh right, water.
He simply can’t just pull himself out, each counter only digging him deeper in the muck, his free legs bending to accommodate his awkward pose. The livered stallion takes to looking around, what can he use, what can he seek for help when he simply has no means to do so alone? Some vines, just there but how can he reach them? Will he be able to pull himself out?
Rustle, growl.
The leaves stir, he can just barely make them out as they tremble but he doesn't need to strain too hard because the golden pelt emerges, crouched and ready. A jaguar paces, smelling his fear as it leaks to the whites of his eyes. Druid’s nostrils flare, wide, a whuff of air leaving him as he tosses, slipping further to his doom. No, no, no. Not for a girl, not like this, he begs himself, craning his neck to thick green ropes, lips searching.
Closer, closer the cat creeps, prowling from the brush with such ease, and soon Druid knows the feline will gain, will leap and then it will be over. All over.
Green, he can taste it, brown lips latching the hanging vines, teeth finding them next as he frantically attempts to live. And he does, yanking the solution though he knows not if it will hold but luck smiles on him and he forces himself up and out- squealing. She catches him just so, raking her claws at his chest as he struggles to gain his footing, blood wetting the earth as she finds his fleshy mass. He roars, emitting a sound deep from within- pain, horror, anger. Rearing up, his legs lashing out like swords, smacking her face and receiving a fierce snarl. Hah! he would say but there’s really no time and he can only think to run now, run away. And they ache, his legs, but he moves them, biting his cheek against the hot heat at his chest. Now running blind in fear in the Jungle is probably as stupid as you can get but that doesn’t matter now, living matters.
Save her.
So he runs, eats the earth with his legs and tells himself it doesn’t hurt. Forward, left, right, jump, forward. He runs and he crashes through the dense treeline, skidding to halt in a clearing that holds a hut.
Save her.
Yes, but who will save him?
druid
words: 1455 points: HTML by Call
Jungle. Quicksand and Jaguar.