08-23-2020, 11:46 AM
One thing was for certain: the captain could not return to her home.
Only to cook for her children, watch over them while they slept, otherwise, during the day, she would busy herself on the archipelago they inhabited. That was her real home. The hut only reminded her of death, only brought forth the memories so fresh, cut into her chest, an aching loneliness making its own home within it. Her anchor had been cut away, stormy seas pulling her all around, farther and farther from the shorelines. But she'd lived without it before. The pain was fresh, but she had her means of dealing with it on her own. Anyone who'd known Goldenluxury Roux for a long time would know that her insistent pace, constant work was all part of the process. There would never be enough distractions, though to take it away completely.
Her soothsayer had gone, a reaver as well, and it was her job to fill in those holes. To host sage tryouts, find a new one to take his place. But every time she goes to gather the books, all she can do is stare. And so she fills in herself, traversing the jungles, collecting the herbs she'd gotten to know long ago. She was not a healer, did not ever want to be, but it was something for her to do, and it was something she knew how to do. So she would do it. And so she did.
Though with such a specific task in mind, it was difficult to focus, mind buzzing, noise becoming louder and quieter. The plants she searched for turned to simple colors and shapes, headaches forming and leaving within seconds. The captain was tired, and she had to keep moving, basket in her maw as she collected. Paws pushing forward, moving from the heavily planted jungles to the beaches. They contained their own shares of roots and remedies. And so she moves, paw landing, though without watching its own movement, it lands upon a particularly sharp stone. She drops the basket, lifting her paw in pain instinctively. Shaking it out, she looks down, a fever rushing into her mind. Her paw drops once more, this time pads curling around the stone, and using her grip to throw it. The female watches the stone bounce across the shoreline, eyes narrowing. She moves to pick up the herbs that'd fallen from her basket, when her eyes land upon another stone nearby.
And so another little distraction, little time filler begins. Basket now at her side, the captain simply tosses each rock she finds, watching one bounce farther than another across the water before it finally dips. It was childish, a trick she'd learned a long time ago, has not used since she was much younger, but for now, it worked on her aching head, shaky legs.
Only to cook for her children, watch over them while they slept, otherwise, during the day, she would busy herself on the archipelago they inhabited. That was her real home. The hut only reminded her of death, only brought forth the memories so fresh, cut into her chest, an aching loneliness making its own home within it. Her anchor had been cut away, stormy seas pulling her all around, farther and farther from the shorelines. But she'd lived without it before. The pain was fresh, but she had her means of dealing with it on her own. Anyone who'd known Goldenluxury Roux for a long time would know that her insistent pace, constant work was all part of the process. There would never be enough distractions, though to take it away completely.
Her soothsayer had gone, a reaver as well, and it was her job to fill in those holes. To host sage tryouts, find a new one to take his place. But every time she goes to gather the books, all she can do is stare. And so she fills in herself, traversing the jungles, collecting the herbs she'd gotten to know long ago. She was not a healer, did not ever want to be, but it was something for her to do, and it was something she knew how to do. So she would do it. And so she did.
Though with such a specific task in mind, it was difficult to focus, mind buzzing, noise becoming louder and quieter. The plants she searched for turned to simple colors and shapes, headaches forming and leaving within seconds. The captain was tired, and she had to keep moving, basket in her maw as she collected. Paws pushing forward, moving from the heavily planted jungles to the beaches. They contained their own shares of roots and remedies. And so she moves, paw landing, though without watching its own movement, it lands upon a particularly sharp stone. She drops the basket, lifting her paw in pain instinctively. Shaking it out, she looks down, a fever rushing into her mind. Her paw drops once more, this time pads curling around the stone, and using her grip to throw it. The female watches the stone bounce across the shoreline, eyes narrowing. She moves to pick up the herbs that'd fallen from her basket, when her eyes land upon another stone nearby.
And so another little distraction, little time filler begins. Basket now at her side, the captain simply tosses each rock she finds, watching one bounce farther than another across the water before it finally dips. It was childish, a trick she'd learned a long time ago, has not used since she was much younger, but for now, it worked on her aching head, shaky legs.
NOTHING'S EVER LOST FOREVER, IT'S JUST HIDING IN THE RECESS OF YOUR MIND AND WHEN YOU NEED IT, IT WILL COME TO YOU AT NIGHT. I MISS THE YELLOW. I MISS THE YELLING AND THE SHAKEDOWN. I'M NOT COMPLAINING, NO, I GOT A BETTER SET OF KNIVES NOW. I MISS MY DRUMMER, MY DEAD STEPBROTHER, AND THE PIT CROWD. AND CHUCK AND MATTY - IF THEY COULD SEE ME THEY'D BE SO PROUD.
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