10-21-2016, 01:23 PM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
They have already slipped into their former. The curse seems to follow them, their silence ever expanding across the island. What had once been bustling to the brim with voices is now just barely above a whisper, hardly audible above the lapping of ocean waves. With his eyes downcast Tiphon tries to summon their voices to his ears, hoping that the quiet of the Dale hasn’t already ingrained itself in their isolated new home. His wings – still strange and hideous in his eyes – shuffle against his ribs uncomfortably when he is met with an everlasting hush. There is an occasional song from the native birds, but all others are muted.
When he lifts his head he tries to call for someone – anyone – and his gaze sifts through the trees in hopes of seeing someone familiar. His mind, occupied by his memories, reels uncontrollably all the while his body and expression remains at ease. He thinks of Talulah, Elysteria, Joscelin, and Ea. Briefly, he even remembers that strange mare that muttered his grandmother’s name before slipping away. Who was she? Her scent has already been memorized in the case that one day they cross paths again.
Inching forward, Tiphon creeps toward the edge of the spring. Its glassy surface ripples when a leaf drifts down and kisses the water. Almost mechanically, Tiphon lowers his head to take a few gulps before lifting and staring across the emptiness once more. His only companion is the viridian green of their home and the trees that quietly tower above.
When he lifts his head he tries to call for someone – anyone – and his gaze sifts through the trees in hopes of seeing someone familiar. His mind, occupied by his memories, reels uncontrollably all the while his body and expression remains at ease. He thinks of Talulah, Elysteria, Joscelin, and Ea. Briefly, he even remembers that strange mare that muttered his grandmother’s name before slipping away. Who was she? Her scent has already been memorized in the case that one day they cross paths again.
Inching forward, Tiphon creeps toward the edge of the spring. Its glassy surface ripples when a leaf drifts down and kisses the water. Almost mechanically, Tiphon lowers his head to take a few gulps before lifting and staring across the emptiness once more. His only companion is the viridian green of their home and the trees that quietly tower above.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION