10-04-2018, 09:39 PM
Warning! Danger! The looming, twisted spires taunted him. Their frozen bones curling creaky joints, daring Tristan into dangerous waters he knew ought not be entered. Only the nip kept him from leaping forward. He could swim the strongest of seas. To scratch and claw at those stones, he would swim through an ocean of dangers. It would be worth it to see the pillars toppled, bones scattered.
At his side, his companion was calm. An easiness overwhelmed him in those moments. Tristan turned toward him and the spell seemed broken. Twisted basalt reformed to solid shapes. No ridicule barbed. Mockery retreated into the sea until it disappeared beneath the surface. Tristan frowned, sank into the sand and sat alongside the wolf that seemed to be satisfied by the decision.
Like some kind of reward, a lovely montage followed. Tristan found himself smiling despite best efforts to sulk. But the images blurred in his mind. Arms wrapped around him turned to nuzzling cheeks. Laughter to yips.
He put a hand to the buzz of his scalp. A tail of unbound hair fell around his shoulder as he did so. To him, the idea of pack was synonymous with city: a mess of bodies tumbling over one another, the smoke of oil blackening the air, the noise of a thousand yelling voices. He wanted to shield his eyes, bury face in the black sandy beach.
“How?” He asked of the wolf as though it held answers all souls sought.
Tristan wanted to reach out and bury a hand in such thick fur. Just to see if the wolf was real.
“Who are you?” He asked, studying the profile of a strong muzzle. Eyes that flickered gold when they looked upon him. So real.
At his side, his companion was calm. An easiness overwhelmed him in those moments. Tristan turned toward him and the spell seemed broken. Twisted basalt reformed to solid shapes. No ridicule barbed. Mockery retreated into the sea until it disappeared beneath the surface. Tristan frowned, sank into the sand and sat alongside the wolf that seemed to be satisfied by the decision.
Like some kind of reward, a lovely montage followed. Tristan found himself smiling despite best efforts to sulk. But the images blurred in his mind. Arms wrapped around him turned to nuzzling cheeks. Laughter to yips.
He put a hand to the buzz of his scalp. A tail of unbound hair fell around his shoulder as he did so. To him, the idea of pack was synonymous with city: a mess of bodies tumbling over one another, the smoke of oil blackening the air, the noise of a thousand yelling voices. He wanted to shield his eyes, bury face in the black sandy beach.
“How?” He asked of the wolf as though it held answers all souls sought.
Tristan wanted to reach out and bury a hand in such thick fur. Just to see if the wolf was real.
“Who are you?” He asked, studying the profile of a strong muzzle. Eyes that flickered gold when they looked upon him. So real.