Prologue
It was late. The sun was fading fast in the sky, the sky quickly growing dark. It was pleasantly warm out on this particular night. The first few stars starting to muscle their way into existence as the warm pink light of the sunset horizon was fast fading. This was the Vericona Plains. How long had it been? That question circled the muscular male as he stepped across the familiar field. Oh yes, he knew this field well. This was his mother's field. This was his sister's field. This was the West of Alacritis. Adravendi soil. Soil that they had to play for blood for one too many times. It would be again one day, he knew that much in his bones. Standing tall and proud, the brown pelted male took each step slowly, savoring the feeling of the grass beneath his feet. The familiar air. The warmth of the earth. The scent of flowers, the taste of the wind. All familiar. All wonderful. It caused a pleased, soft smile to spread across his brown maw.
The old scars across his snout would proclaim his return to the glorious land of Alacritis. And despite his want to sing, he would hold back. For an entire year he'd held his tongue and remained silent. He wouldn't sing again until it was something worth singing about. Something good. Something bright and happy. The green eyes would look around as he walked the plain. It was like a dream to stand here again. Oh, how he'd dreamed of it, too. Only now it was for real. He could remember the pain. So very well. But he was well over it now. The way they had come and striped his mother's pack away from her. He'd had the notion to give it back to her some day, but that had long sense run it's course. He was done with spite and rebellion. Now there was only the will to build something. To capture that glimpse of peace and happiness. If one for a moment, but capture it all the same. That was among the many things he'd learned out in the wild. It was so much easier in the wilderness. To find a group of individual that you could love and be loved by and just turn your back on the world and be happy. At home in one another's company.
But it could also be a very lonely life. That was Erani's gift to him. A name and a place of belonging. With that name, he was tied to Alacritis. He was tied to his family. He was bound to the West. And though he'd fallen in love with the East while out hiding after her overthrow, this was where he belonged. He would have to go find Surreal, and soon. Once he learned to use his voice again. It had taken far too long to get all the tools laid out on the table. But he had them now. And though the name of his birth was an age old pillar of strength and fortitude. It was miles upon miles away. He'd never seen it with his own eyes. And he never would. And now he didn't even want to. He was an Adravendi. He was on his plain of origin. Right here, among the chaos and downpour. Even if every goal he set for himself failed. He'd be able to part this world saying that he survived living among the storm, and actually got to smile a couple of times. That would count for something.
But he'd wasted too much time already, and had none more to spare. Every second in Alacritis was priceless to him now. He'd once loved this place, and shortly there after, hated it down to it's very depths. And now, he would cling to it fiercely. He knew his way around the West and the East well. He knew how to travel all the way to The Wall. He knew too much about this place to abandon it again. And, perhaps, just maybe, he might see that female again too. Just maybe. He had a few chapters left to write. Maybe he'd get to grow his mother's name back into a titan. Maybe not. Either way. He would take what he could wrap his paws around. And hold it there against his chest and attempt to keep it forever. And even if he lost it all again, this time he wouldn't run and hide. Glory, maybe. Happiness, without question. Pain, that was probably guaranteed. Stability wasn't something he'd be banking on. But that was regardless.
He would continue along his path until he was able to smell the pack markers in the distance. Stopping in a nice spot among the shrubs, he would lower himself to his rump and close his eyes. Tilting his head back, and raising his snout high into the sky, he would take a long and savory breath in through his longs. Filling his chest deep with the wonderful smell of home, then his maw would part as he exhaled the breath slowly. Basking in the warm, soft hot pink and orange light, and the warm air, he found himself at a state of peace. Newol was finally with an identity, at long last. After a long road, he had finally come to understand who he was underneath his own skin. He had nothing to prove. And no grudge to hold. His only regret in life was that his mother wasn't here to see the moment. Nothing left to hide. No pain. Peace. Newol's was a soft soul, yes. He loved love, so of course he had a soft soul. He wasn't evil. So of course he had a soft soul. But despite that, here he stood. Soul unvanquished. In the end, was it such a bad thing to be a good guy? Not hardly one bit. And so, here he stood. Newol Zixx Adravendi of Western Alarcitis. Smile, mother. He wasn't done just yet, one more time.
"Speech" |