11-02-2017, 06:56 PM
His approach to the rushing waters is a fast one. He finds that the winter winds carry their scents with ease. He is there in hours, no common obstacle in his way. Within his bones thrums the marrow of ancient lines built for speed and endurance. He is a machine willing to overload before it quits.
The river rushes beneath charcoal hooves, his breath coming in quick gray puffs against the chilling air. All around him are the noises of the outside world. Birds sing quiet songs, squirrels hop from branch to branch, horses call to each other from afar. Yet at the river, he is alone, a lone standing creature ready to be sewn by the river rocks. He calls a single call, loud into the winds that pick it up and push it onward like a mother pushes her child to stand. Yet unlike a newborn his voice is strong and determined, filled with the song of a thousand lifetimes pushed into one harrowing note.
Come
It is all he releases from his throat before he drags his soaking pelt from the river bed. Like the night time ocean he is a map of dark grays and blues with twirling patterns of white dots and patches to break it up. He is the tide coming to fetch the bystanders, the whitecaps above the bottomless sea.
Like the ocean he beckons to them.
Come
((@[Edonis] sorry it is so short!!))
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