12-20-2018, 10:07 AM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
Life is ever blossoming here on the island. Where there had initially been silence there is now boisterous conversation and laughter. There are still many that are stricken with sickness, but their symptoms are addressed even if only temporarily. Much to Tiphon’s dismay, he cannot entirely excise the disease from their bodies – not even his – but at least he can offer some reprieve.
What bloody nose and fatigue that developed overnight has since subsided with the intricacies of his own magic threading into the sinew and bloodstream. Another day sparing himself from the suffering so that he may continue preserving this island and those who have sought shelter on its shores. They – the sources of the voices dancing with the breeze – are his purpose, it seems. Underneath the veil of uncertainty, Tiphon deciphers personal goals and objectives to ensure happiness and safety. Whether this is the sole reason he returned, or not, he still has yet to figure.
The soft whimper of a voice somehow pulls Tiphon from his train of thoughts, halting his aimless wandering of the shoreline. Its softness is nearly lost in the steady metronome of the waves lapping at the sandy beach, but it’s followed by a much more dominating voice that bears an air of authority and direction. Lifting his molten eyes from the ground, he sees the two women standing on the beach with the water kissing their pasterns. With an amiable grin stretching across the length of his lips, he closes the distance among them all while drinking in their foreign scents for the very first time.
”Hello!” He begins rather airily before quieting his tone slightly, more formally addressing them. ”I’m Tiphon, and welcome to the Island Resort. If you have no ill will, is there anything I can help you with today?” While he doesn’t declare himself as anything of rank or importance to them (because he doesn’t even yet know what direction the island will take once entirely settled), his hospitality provides some means of an answer for them.
What bloody nose and fatigue that developed overnight has since subsided with the intricacies of his own magic threading into the sinew and bloodstream. Another day sparing himself from the suffering so that he may continue preserving this island and those who have sought shelter on its shores. They – the sources of the voices dancing with the breeze – are his purpose, it seems. Underneath the veil of uncertainty, Tiphon deciphers personal goals and objectives to ensure happiness and safety. Whether this is the sole reason he returned, or not, he still has yet to figure.
The soft whimper of a voice somehow pulls Tiphon from his train of thoughts, halting his aimless wandering of the shoreline. Its softness is nearly lost in the steady metronome of the waves lapping at the sandy beach, but it’s followed by a much more dominating voice that bears an air of authority and direction. Lifting his molten eyes from the ground, he sees the two women standing on the beach with the water kissing their pasterns. With an amiable grin stretching across the length of his lips, he closes the distance among them all while drinking in their foreign scents for the very first time.
”Hello!” He begins rather airily before quieting his tone slightly, more formally addressing them. ”I’m Tiphon, and welcome to the Island Resort. If you have no ill will, is there anything I can help you with today?” While he doesn’t declare himself as anything of rank or importance to them (because he doesn’t even yet know what direction the island will take once entirely settled), his hospitality provides some means of an answer for them.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION