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+---- Thread: ( none of my dreams come true / washed up ) (/showthread.php?tid=12953)
( none of my dreams come true / washed up ) - Grimm - 10-08-2020
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11.5px; width: 310px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Ouroboros.
Betwixt sealed lips held own tail, upon self twisted, entwined in embrace incapable of concluding. Infinity shaped in faux skin painted with careful strokes, stalemate reframed in concept false in and of itself, construct both. Heavy the notion, and that which it embodied, among unravelling threads, poorly contained the numerous thoughts woven by exhaustion plagued mind. Within grand scheme, had been there any they may theoretically deem a truth rather than a comfort created in hope of understanding, minor their time. Passed by the course of years, elder though none the wiser left as they met inevitable conclusion, still child felt they for all experienced and felt.
Yet theirs was that encircled reptilian, infinite grains in imperceivable hourglass never permitted to drain, caught as was the ouroboros, as were they. A curse some may deem it, extended beyond natural possibility days grown heavy against shoulders aching beneath accumulated weight, others a blessing for the shackles may be cast aside. Had they cared enough, delegated even a few meagre moments to pondering such concepts, personal opinion may have been formed.
Near inaudible the sigh that parted pale lips, wooden hull a small construct, enough so lowered a paw of ebony, against calm surface the ocean bore trailing. Solitary their travels, staged upon land and sea alike though back had they been drawn to salt laden depths, the hushed murmur a comfort, creaking groan as ropes and mast alike shifted a gentle undercurrent. Lonesome may one grow in such, only company stories once written in hand forgein and yet their own. Slow the upward creep, almost instantaneous the withdraw with a strained laugh. Rather agonising combination flesh laid open, messy the bandages that hung in thin strips for worsened the headache that settled behind their eyes by the insistent pressure, and salt on short strands.
Among the assorted books once more did darkly hued feline sprawl, back once more cast mind that wandered and bobbed in a still tide. There was nothing, as always. Few the weeks they may recall, a broken blur of nought but colour messily smeared against closed eyelids, central point the abrasions upon their skull. Amnesia. One had spoken with a surety unshared, along nodding as he listed off what little he knew, lost the patient as he continued to ramble on. There had been nothing left that may assist in such case, offered only veiled excuses and against their chest thrust a journal and pen.
Write down what you remember. All you see if you feel like it, you might not remember but at least you've got a chance to start over.
Particular the one plucked from messy items, wear against leather cover speaking of age no other did, the inner cover scrawled across in hand unpractised with holding, let alone using, a writing implement. "Harland…" Further was written, though few the pages they had hesitantly thumbed through until a basic idea of this particular individual was formed in their mind, them if what was written may be believed though alien the thought. No other option was there upon the table and so, with some sense of hope, taken on themself the identity of this supposed stranger.
Harsh the end of their once peaceful journey, still the canvas sail pushed out by wind though ground ashore the hull with a petulant little noise, had they been of better mind almost relieved seemed it. More apparent their own, though it was bound in worry as over edge did arise head, sight that greeted them offering little. Golden the sands beneath midday sun, heavy hung the sun in sky speckled with fleeting clouds, mere wisps trailing along, along shore palm trees arising with dropped cargo littering their roots. Clumsy their exit from the grounded vessel, behind left belongings for later collection for deemed deserted this supposed paradise, left standing to look at paws sunk deep as once more they grew accustomed to ground.
May have been best they have taken a few test steps for jarring the impact, teeth clattering together and muffled their groan. Too long had they seemingly gone since walking, unnecessary as it was on a vessel built for a single occupant, long the minutes they simply lay. Gathered in time, rising aloft on legs that tremor, slower taken the sliding step, barely departing the sand. It is as such they traversed a fair portion of the empty shore, continued on in manner that permits curiosity to bloom in place of fear, slight the cant of head as narrowed vision swept along that in limited vision. Better may it be to rest a time, allow that thundering drum that seemed to ceaseless best in their skull until it cast a reverberation, yet better judgement was declined.
Still small but at the least genuine steps that which saw the supposed Harland — they were such, surely, who else may they be but the boy assisted by father until a time they may write their own tales — enter a more populated segment. Slow the activity, few between those they watched continue about their work or traverse the packed sand to white washed huts beyond the tides reach, dwindling beneath a sun still blistering even as the chill of autumn crept forth. No longer capable of holding their own weight upon their haunches did they fall with a nervous little chuckle drawn from their lips, startled and in part relieved, though tight the grasp fear had about their heart.
"I'm a right fool, should have known better." Unknown how words tumbled from barely moving lips, wanted internal monologue continued yet wider spanning the effects seemed to be, voice dying with an unsure little hum. For all their desire to depart there was no chance such may be even possible, a cruel melody begun, head almost felt to be splitting. To temple arose a paw and it was only the harsh press of teeth that stopped any sound from escaping, it seemed all too much had transpired and a price must be paid for their curiosity to be properly satiated.
Re: ( none of my dreams come true / washed up ) - Simon F.M. - 10-08-2020
Diya's recent months had been busy and packed, up to her ears in kittens that swarmed her paws with every step. Last she'd checked they were all tucked in her home, she'd slipped away to head for the tavern. She wasn't in search of a drink, simply wishing to grab fish from the morning's haul to feed to her family. The tavern she would never reach, it seemed, though she may continue that path later.
Her eyes landed on boat moored on the sands of the beach, not recognizing the ship. It wasn't she had seen sailing around the waters that surrounded their island home. Curiosity pulled the snowy feline forward, her gaze taking in the craft. She watched as a small figure lept from the craft, watching their stumbling figure as she slowly approached. A pang, reason unknown, went off in her chest as the newcomer's scent reached her. Familiarity rang like a bell in her mind as she continued forward, ears pinned to her skull in worry. Behind the other she would follow for only a moment, attempting to approach the small feline. As she watched them settle on their haunches, a flash of scar across neck caught her attention.
Suddenly, memories flooded the alabaster colored vampire as recognition flashed in her eyes. Carely she moved towards him, unsure of herself as she took in ebony fur, gold eyes that pierced her heart like a jagged blade. Hopeful, a name tumbled from her maw, throat constricting. "Harland?" she asked softly, her breath quickening as she attempted to process the sight of a member of her family, maybe even the last. She'd given up hope of stumbling over any remainders, not after word reached her that Warringkingdoms had disappeared and nobody had seen her uncle in months. She would stop before the other, paw lifting to the charm necklace that sat tucked in her fur, protected by thick strands. A reminder of where she came from and what she lost. "Harland is that... is that really you?" she asked, tone hopeful and as if begging for it too be true.
Her eyes landed on boat moored on the sands of the beach, not recognizing the ship. It wasn't she had seen sailing around the waters that surrounded their island home. Curiosity pulled the snowy feline forward, her gaze taking in the craft. She watched as a small figure lept from the craft, watching their stumbling figure as she slowly approached. A pang, reason unknown, went off in her chest as the newcomer's scent reached her. Familiarity rang like a bell in her mind as she continued forward, ears pinned to her skull in worry. Behind the other she would follow for only a moment, attempting to approach the small feline. As she watched them settle on their haunches, a flash of scar across neck caught her attention.
Suddenly, memories flooded the alabaster colored vampire as recognition flashed in her eyes. Carely she moved towards him, unsure of herself as she took in ebony fur, gold eyes that pierced her heart like a jagged blade. Hopeful, a name tumbled from her maw, throat constricting. "Harland?" she asked softly, her breath quickening as she attempted to process the sight of a member of her family, maybe even the last. She'd given up hope of stumbling over any remainders, not after word reached her that Warringkingdoms had disappeared and nobody had seen her uncle in months. She would stop before the other, paw lifting to the charm necklace that sat tucked in her fur, protected by thick strands. A reminder of where she came from and what she lost. "Harland is that... is that really you?" she asked, tone hopeful and as if begging for it too be true.
Re: ( none of my dreams come true / washed up ) - FINNEGAN F.M.R. - 10-09-2020
WATERFALLS COMING
OUT YOUR MOUTH,
WHAT THE HELL
ARE WE DOING NOW?
draconic feline . minnow . he/they
Curiousity. It was Finnegan’s biggest weakness. While he should be napping at home, the little draconic feline was instead following quietly behind his mother, curious to see where she was headed. It was probably a bad move that had a slight chance of getting him in trouble but he couldn’t help it! He just wasn’t tired right now. Using the foliage to hide himself, the young boy was doing his best to remain sneaky, trying to allow some distance between him and Diya so as not to get caught.
At first, Finn didn’t see the boat, too busy keeping track of his surroundings. Only when he noticed that his mother had stopped did he see why. Of course he had seen boats before, like the Anchored Tempest, but this one was new. Distracted by this new object, he gave up on his “spy mission”, padding forward until he was right at Diya’s side. Once he had drawn close, he realized that there wasn’t just a boat here, there was a stranger too. Moving closer to the white she-cat, he would gaze at Harland with wide eyes, imaginary brows furrowed in his signature stare. She didn’t smell of the Typhoon, yet his mom knew this stranger’s name... Harland... who were they? For now, the child said nothing, not trustful enough to introduce himself just yet.
At first, Finn didn’t see the boat, too busy keeping track of his surroundings. Only when he noticed that his mother had stopped did he see why. Of course he had seen boats before, like the Anchored Tempest, but this one was new. Distracted by this new object, he gave up on his “spy mission”, padding forward until he was right at Diya’s side. Once he had drawn close, he realized that there wasn’t just a boat here, there was a stranger too. Moving closer to the white she-cat, he would gaze at Harland with wide eyes, imaginary brows furrowed in his signature stare. She didn’t smell of the Typhoon, yet his mom knew this stranger’s name... Harland... who were they? For now, the child said nothing, not trustful enough to introduce himself just yet.
Re: ( none of my dreams come true / washed up ) - Alexandre - 10-11-2020
Following his brother's lead, the domestic feline crept up from behind. Alexandre didn't know what was happening. Who was this 'Harland' fellow? He couldn't imagine why his mother knew them, nor why they washed up on the shore. Perhaps a shipwreck. Maybe even an enemy trying to deceive them. The child's mind feigned with ideas as he grew closer. Orange eyes narrowed in, awaiting answers.
Creeping up behind his mother, he rounded towards her front. Multicolored wings spread out. Razor-sharp teeth bared and tiny claws unsheathed from his sockets. Alexandre, taking on his namesake, was attempting to protect his mother. It was unbeknownst to him that there wasn't a threat.
Creeping up behind his mother, he rounded towards her front. Multicolored wings spread out. Razor-sharp teeth bared and tiny claws unsheathed from his sockets. Alexandre, taking on his namesake, was attempting to protect his mother. It was unbeknownst to him that there wasn't a threat.
BLOOD AND GORE IS ALL I GET FOR BEING YOURS
YOU WANNA BE MINE ?