I stretch myself beyond my means [Any]

[Canaan]

Canaan

And maybe, I'll find out a way to make it back someday.
To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.

  The sun has already begun its descent beyond the hazy horizon, as the once vivid sky gives way to a gradient of auburn and ash as a cluster of thick, feathery clouds loom overhead, rumbling dangerously. His deep, gold-flecked hazel eyes observe the ridges and curves, noting the darkness of its shadows – as the raucous sea slowly lips at the shoreline, rhythmic in its gentle caress. It is a reminder of where he had been born; of where he was from – the roots that he had torn away from the soft, and supple ground of Tephra, so long ago.

  He is so close to home, he can very nearly taste the sulfur – but he cannot bring himself to go.

  The memories return to him, of warm evenings stolen away beneath a starlit sky, of the carefree afternoons spent bathing in the sea – of the many hours wasted away; a squandered youth of which his wild heart often pined for. The long summer days had long since passed, giving way to a smothering autumn and a frigid winter – but not on the island; never on the island. There is an emptiness within his heart that had never quite been filled after his captivity – he had lost so much time; the youth of his sons that he could never recapture. Still, their hearts are filled with bitterness and anger, and he can never reclaim their youth, just as he cannot claim his own.

  His heart aches to return to Tephra, to find his mother – it has been so long, but he cannot bring himself to do it.
  He chest is still too heavy with anger, too laden with heartache to see her yet.

  Instead, he is quietly wandering the eastern border, savoring the sensation of the frothing seafoam lapping hungrily along his gilded legs while his long and lustrous tail of sienna glides along the surface of the incoming tide. He is quiet, contemplative, knowing that what he yearns to see and where he longs to be – he can almost feel it; the magnetic pull of where he had been raised, of the volcanic island that held some small, fragmented piece of his heart.

  He is drawn from his quiet reverie by the stillness of a silhouette outlined in the pale, waning sunlight, seeping into the darkness of her skin, but the light cannot reach the shadow of despair within her eyes. His legs carry him to her, and slowly, a gentle breeze carries with him – stirring from deep within his chest, effortlessly pushed into the atmosphere as the wind caresses her shoulder, wrapping around her neck and brushing her tousled forelock away from her eyes. She is heartbroken; never has it been written more clearly – never had it be more obvious to him.

  ”You look like you could use a little company,” he murmurs quietly, cheek tilted as the heavy column of his neck is lowered, seeking her gaze to meet with his own. ”my name is Canaan.”

If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all,
then I hope there's someone out there who can bring me back to you.

@[Ciri]