Vhalar 7th 717Cycle
Standing alone the boy watched the surf. The wreckage of the small boat he’d washed ashore on was gone now, he didn’t know what had become of it. Only that it was gone now. But the memories of that storm were not so easily lost. The crashing waves the Tattooed man who had freed him, they eyes of the Pirate. All of it played fresh in his mind when he slept. Nightmares, memories of his past were always behind him like wolves ever nipping at his heels.
Sitting down on the sand he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms about his legs. Looking out onto the ocean. The stars above still twinkling before dawns rays conquered the sky. He came here often, to look out onto the sea to remember, it calmed him after nights where he could not rest well. Rubbing his hands together he blew into them. His hot breath warming his chilled fingers. The weather was getting cooler as the seasons moved on. He didn’t know if he’d be able to visit this place much once the real cold settled in.
Shivering slightly as the sand’s cool temperature sapped warmth from his body. Out of some stubborn commitment he sat in silent vigil waiting on the sun still some long while off. He knew the tattooed man was not going to walk out of the surf, he was gone but he still held some childish hope that his old…. Friend… could emerge from the seas that had claimed him. It was sobering and something he still held himself in part responsible for, even if it was entirely beyond his control. The dark tongues of water lapped at the sand releasing it’s languid sounds. The ocean was scary, Mero hadn’t gone deeper than his ankles since he’d washed up on shore, and lightning and howling wind still haunted him. Storms were unpleasant and the deep black of the ocean scarier still, yet the dark beach was a hallowed place for him. So he stayed even as chills occasionally worked there way up his spine, even his wings were beginning to feel the chill through his downy feathers.
Standing alone the boy watched the surf. The wreckage of the small boat he’d washed ashore on was gone now, he didn’t know what had become of it. Only that it was gone now. But the memories of that storm were not so easily lost. The crashing waves the Tattooed man who had freed him, they eyes of the Pirate. All of it played fresh in his mind when he slept. Nightmares, memories of his past were always behind him like wolves ever nipping at his heels.
Sitting down on the sand he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms about his legs. Looking out onto the ocean. The stars above still twinkling before dawns rays conquered the sky. He came here often, to look out onto the sea to remember, it calmed him after nights where he could not rest well. Rubbing his hands together he blew into them. His hot breath warming his chilled fingers. The weather was getting cooler as the seasons moved on. He didn’t know if he’d be able to visit this place much once the real cold settled in.
Shivering slightly as the sand’s cool temperature sapped warmth from his body. Out of some stubborn commitment he sat in silent vigil waiting on the sun still some long while off. He knew the tattooed man was not going to walk out of the surf, he was gone but he still held some childish hope that his old…. Friend… could emerge from the seas that had claimed him. It was sobering and something he still held himself in part responsible for, even if it was entirely beyond his control. The dark tongues of water lapped at the sand releasing it’s languid sounds. The ocean was scary, Mero hadn’t gone deeper than his ankles since he’d washed up on shore, and lightning and howling wind still haunted him. Storms were unpleasant and the deep black of the ocean scarier still, yet the dark beach was a hallowed place for him. So he stayed even as chills occasionally worked there way up his spine, even his wings were beginning to feel the chill through his downy feathers.
