03-15-2020, 10:43 PM
Darkness.
That is all there had been, for a while. An ever expanding plane of darkness that somehow seemed so vast and yet so suffocating at the same time. Then, there had been water. So much water, in towering, terrifying waves that rose up and threatened to swallow him whole. Water that was dark, and violent, and nothing like the gentle waves that he had come to know lapping at the shores of The Typhoon. Everything after that felt like a blur, with only fuzzy details coming into focus, on occasion. Desperate hands, grasping for purchase on rope he believed would save him. Soft sand beneath his hands and knees, and a foreign sky up above. An island, unfamiliar and new, so different from home. New friends, and new enemies, and a giant towering mountain far up above, with a colorful egg atop it. A girl's voice, soft and sweet and sad, bidding him goodbye. A hand squeezing his, and the soft murmur of goodbye, Link. I hope you make it home.
And then, light.
A painful gasp left his lungs when he awoke, his paws desperately scrabbling against wooden flooring as he came to. His body lurched upwards, yearning for movement after so much time idle. Every bone in his form ached, and there was an odd chill that reached down to his very bones despite the fur that clung to him. He felt simultaneously so incredibly motivated and so incredibly devastated that it felt like everything was going to come crashing in on him. The wolf tried to push himself to his feet, wondering how long he had been out, only for his legs to give a screech of protest, and his slim form to collide with the ground once again. A wheeze left him, his blue eyes staring upward as the Typhoon's ship lurched silently from side to side around him. He was still in his room, at the very least, but he was far from the condition he had come inside of it in. The room wasn't in great shape either, with a thin layer of dust covering seemingly everywhere he could see, and an odd blank space where he knew Kilius had once been curled up beside him.
The hero took another deep breath inward, his eyes falling shut briefly as he thought of what he had missed. What he had been so desperately trying to get back to for what had felt like weeks, but in reality had been months. The Typhoon. Goldie. Kilius. Keona. His paws stretched out in front of him, fumbling around before they found what he had been searching for – his blade. He pulled the sword closer, pushing the tip into the wood beneath him and pressing upwards until his finally began to move, shifting until he could get his back legs underneath him again. It fell to the ground with a clatter beside him once he was upright, using all of his willpower to push himself the rest of the way up. His body felt so weak, with his throat and stomach howling desperately for both food and water, the absence of both having been keenly noted with months of wear and tear, his fur practically hanging off of him. He took a few unsteady steps forward, pushing stubbornly through the nausea and exhaustion that tempted him back towards sleep once again. He had been sleeping for long enough. Far too long, honestly.
A soft grunt left the canine as he pushed the door to his room open, leaning heavily against the wall as he made his way out of the ship, his paws carrying him on autopilot. Even after months of being in a coma, he could still remember the Typhoon like the back of his paw. It was his home, after all. Soon enough, he found his way onto the deck, stumbling down onto the docks and then forward, into the sand. His front paws gave out temporarily, his muzzle connecting with the sand as he fell forward gracelessly, groaning in response. He pushed himself up again, brushing sand from his face as he looked around, desperately searching for any sign of a familiar face. How long had he been out? Was everyone he knew gone? The thought made his heart sink, and he found himself howling, his lungs aching in protest as he called desperately from the sand, "Goldie? Goldie! Keona? Kilius? Is anybody there? Is anyone still here?" His voice was hoarse from months of disuse, and his already scratchy throat was more than a little unhappy with his yelling, but every word held a hint of desperation and sadness, as if the hero was terrified at the prospect of getting the answers to his questions.
That is all there had been, for a while. An ever expanding plane of darkness that somehow seemed so vast and yet so suffocating at the same time. Then, there had been water. So much water, in towering, terrifying waves that rose up and threatened to swallow him whole. Water that was dark, and violent, and nothing like the gentle waves that he had come to know lapping at the shores of The Typhoon. Everything after that felt like a blur, with only fuzzy details coming into focus, on occasion. Desperate hands, grasping for purchase on rope he believed would save him. Soft sand beneath his hands and knees, and a foreign sky up above. An island, unfamiliar and new, so different from home. New friends, and new enemies, and a giant towering mountain far up above, with a colorful egg atop it. A girl's voice, soft and sweet and sad, bidding him goodbye. A hand squeezing his, and the soft murmur of goodbye, Link. I hope you make it home.
And then, light.
A painful gasp left his lungs when he awoke, his paws desperately scrabbling against wooden flooring as he came to. His body lurched upwards, yearning for movement after so much time idle. Every bone in his form ached, and there was an odd chill that reached down to his very bones despite the fur that clung to him. He felt simultaneously so incredibly motivated and so incredibly devastated that it felt like everything was going to come crashing in on him. The wolf tried to push himself to his feet, wondering how long he had been out, only for his legs to give a screech of protest, and his slim form to collide with the ground once again. A wheeze left him, his blue eyes staring upward as the Typhoon's ship lurched silently from side to side around him. He was still in his room, at the very least, but he was far from the condition he had come inside of it in. The room wasn't in great shape either, with a thin layer of dust covering seemingly everywhere he could see, and an odd blank space where he knew Kilius had once been curled up beside him.
The hero took another deep breath inward, his eyes falling shut briefly as he thought of what he had missed. What he had been so desperately trying to get back to for what had felt like weeks, but in reality had been months. The Typhoon. Goldie. Kilius. Keona. His paws stretched out in front of him, fumbling around before they found what he had been searching for – his blade. He pulled the sword closer, pushing the tip into the wood beneath him and pressing upwards until his finally began to move, shifting until he could get his back legs underneath him again. It fell to the ground with a clatter beside him once he was upright, using all of his willpower to push himself the rest of the way up. His body felt so weak, with his throat and stomach howling desperately for both food and water, the absence of both having been keenly noted with months of wear and tear, his fur practically hanging off of him. He took a few unsteady steps forward, pushing stubbornly through the nausea and exhaustion that tempted him back towards sleep once again. He had been sleeping for long enough. Far too long, honestly.
A soft grunt left the canine as he pushed the door to his room open, leaning heavily against the wall as he made his way out of the ship, his paws carrying him on autopilot. Even after months of being in a coma, he could still remember the Typhoon like the back of his paw. It was his home, after all. Soon enough, he found his way onto the deck, stumbling down onto the docks and then forward, into the sand. His front paws gave out temporarily, his muzzle connecting with the sand as he fell forward gracelessly, groaning in response. He pushed himself up again, brushing sand from his face as he looked around, desperately searching for any sign of a familiar face. How long had he been out? Was everyone he knew gone? The thought made his heart sink, and he found himself howling, his lungs aching in protest as he called desperately from the sand, "Goldie? Goldie! Keona? Kilius? Is anybody there? Is anyone still here?" His voice was hoarse from months of disuse, and his already scratchy throat was more than a little unhappy with his yelling, but every word held a hint of desperation and sadness, as if the hero was terrified at the prospect of getting the answers to his questions.
[glow=black,2,300]FOR YOU HAVE A DEMON TO SLAY[/glow]
[glow=#245dce,2,300]❝ HIDING IN SHADOWS CAN YOU FIGHT YOUR DEMONS, ♡
29 months & marked by fate [glow=#3b6b5c,2,300]———— can you face yourself? ❞