a whisper / joining

[deimos]

SMOKESIGNAL

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Perhaps it was the scent of salt water that kept him around. The creaking and mooring of the boat, the scent of tar and the sick scent of the water swabbed upon the deck. Traditional boats were nothing but fun to the rare oddity. He had been sold to the captain of the boat, and whilst easily escapable, Ghost had decided to stick around. It was freedom to sit on a three mast boat and sit upon the lap of luxury, relatively.

Then the storm rolled in.

Nothing was quite the same after that, he barely remembered. The crashing and screaming of ship members as they tried to keep the deathtrap rolling, cresting waves and thundering down to the valley below them. His claws dug into the wood, rain crashing down against his fur and causing his ears to lower. His head whipped back and forth, before his eyes lifted to the wave before him. And it was big. It crashed down against the boat, smacking his head against the deck.

He woke up to seagulls, crested over him and pecking at him as if he was dead. A yowl and a jump up, they were gone. But his vision was swimming and he was stumbling back down to his stomach, head rolling and tunnel vision mounting. His paw lifted to his head, wincing as it brushed at a wound. Damn, that was going to hurt for a while. He stayed laying down, his eyes lifting towards the seas. No boat in sight. A soft sigh left his muzzle, and slowly he made it to his paws again, starting to wander the beach.

// ghost is on the sparkling beach, after a bad storm and a whack to the head!


"text"

tags - penned by [member=79]auto[/member]

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