12-10-2016, 07:13 PM
Ashley has been swimming; again.
That crimson tail of his is just disappearing as he makes the bank on the south coast, and once upon the sandy shores, makes his patrols of the island. He is dripping wet, but his muscles ripple in the light. He is svelte and athletic—taut red flesh stretched over lean muscle. A man who lives half of his life in the water, he feels like a prisoner to the gravity that chains him to the ground here. He has not yet had the ability to regrow his wings, but he is pleased with the day’s swim. Ashley is looking at the ground, moving at a full trot with his eyes on the sand as he moves, concentrating on breathing his exhale. His nostrils flare—the salt burned the inside of his nose and he is distracted—and he tosses his head, as if sneezing.
Water spews outwards as he comes across the pair of women—again, unbeknownst to the ginger man—and he walks pass them, not having heard the genie speaking to her Queen. Ischia is an island that is treacherous for those without wings, and so the onset of visitors is rare—indeed has happened barely a handful of times since the Island’s beginning. And so, when Ashley basically sneezes on the two women, unaware of their existence, he tosses his head again—salt discomfort from his nose finally sated—and looks up… and if at all possible, the red man, turns even redder. He says nothing… Because this is not his usual composure.
What do you even say?
Nothing. You say nothing.
That crimson tail of his is just disappearing as he makes the bank on the south coast, and once upon the sandy shores, makes his patrols of the island. He is dripping wet, but his muscles ripple in the light. He is svelte and athletic—taut red flesh stretched over lean muscle. A man who lives half of his life in the water, he feels like a prisoner to the gravity that chains him to the ground here. He has not yet had the ability to regrow his wings, but he is pleased with the day’s swim. Ashley is looking at the ground, moving at a full trot with his eyes on the sand as he moves, concentrating on breathing his exhale. His nostrils flare—the salt burned the inside of his nose and he is distracted—and he tosses his head, as if sneezing.
Water spews outwards as he comes across the pair of women—again, unbeknownst to the ginger man—and he walks pass them, not having heard the genie speaking to her Queen. Ischia is an island that is treacherous for those without wings, and so the onset of visitors is rare—indeed has happened barely a handful of times since the Island’s beginning. And so, when Ashley basically sneezes on the two women, unaware of their existence, he tosses his head again—salt discomfort from his nose finally sated—and looks up… and if at all possible, the red man, turns even redder. He says nothing… Because this is not his usual composure.
What do you even say?
Nothing. You say nothing.
ashley
I walked the path, it led me to the end.