09-09-2016, 09:30 PM
There was no loss for Kilter here. While others felt the maddening loss of traits, he had never known of his. While his siblings flourished, he had floundered. He could not understand the silent way they spoke, the shared smiles and the gregarious giggles that fluttered between them. He had been lost. Born of a father who wielded his power like a sword, and a mother who relied on hers to speak - he had been a fluke. A faulty piece in a fickle game. And while others had awoken with rage or fury, with a confusion of unspeakable worth - Kilter simply fluttered his eyes, a blurry haze of horizon on the surface.
He had been unsure too - not because of the draining of magic, the steady dripdripdrip of loss - but because everything was different. His home of pines and the steady brawl of wolves had been gone. He had awoken on the cold harsh mountain, his small lungs straining to survive amid the thin air of the world. Everything was different- his sanctuary banished to unknown parts of the world. He was utterly alone.
And so he walked. His spindly legs stumbling down the mountain, bruises gracing his knees and splinters of blood opening upon his legs. His small body raked with the harsh brush growing on the land, the burn of the deserts sand, the itch of the foreign jungle flora, the biting cold of the Tundra leaving him shivering .
He was not made to descend.
And then, he had found it. On the horizon, a fleck of an umbrella of trees - a dark shade of refuge among the unforgiving unknown. Bleeding and begging, he followed - while no wolves called, he felt the whine in his heart, the beckoning of beyond. And he had made it.
The forest welcomed him. It soothed his chaotic senses, the harsh static of fear and the brash unknown. The snow settled to his knees, a soothing sensation after his long trek down. But his body was tired, his mind numb with the stark settling of everything new. He had made it to something that was all he had known - but he had nothing futher to go on.
And then - a shuffling of sounds before him. The labored breathing that consisted of hours of work, the heave of feathers on tired wings, the hushed noise of someone laying in wait.
His heavy legs took two steps forward before succumbing to the drifts of snow - “R- ruan?” His voice is all that is heard in the deep set etch of snowy night.
He had been unsure too - not because of the draining of magic, the steady dripdripdrip of loss - but because everything was different. His home of pines and the steady brawl of wolves had been gone. He had awoken on the cold harsh mountain, his small lungs straining to survive amid the thin air of the world. Everything was different- his sanctuary banished to unknown parts of the world. He was utterly alone.
And so he walked. His spindly legs stumbling down the mountain, bruises gracing his knees and splinters of blood opening upon his legs. His small body raked with the harsh brush growing on the land, the burn of the deserts sand, the itch of the foreign jungle flora, the biting cold of the Tundra leaving him shivering .
He was not made to descend.
And then, he had found it. On the horizon, a fleck of an umbrella of trees - a dark shade of refuge among the unforgiving unknown. Bleeding and begging, he followed - while no wolves called, he felt the whine in his heart, the beckoning of beyond. And he had made it.
The forest welcomed him. It soothed his chaotic senses, the harsh static of fear and the brash unknown. The snow settled to his knees, a soothing sensation after his long trek down. But his body was tired, his mind numb with the stark settling of everything new. He had made it to something that was all he had known - but he had nothing futher to go on.
And then - a shuffling of sounds before him. The labored breathing that consisted of hours of work, the heave of feathers on tired wings, the hushed noise of someone laying in wait.
His heavy legs took two steps forward before succumbing to the drifts of snow - “R- ruan?” His voice is all that is heard in the deep set etch of snowy night.