i don't wanna touch the ground
03-05-2017, 09:38 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-26-2017, 04:10 PM by Nyx.)
It'd been a long time since Ara had left the mainlands. On the brief vacation that she and Novel had taken far from lands most familiar to them, so many years ago, they had briefly adventured to some of the islands that were visible off the coast. She'd never been the biggest fan of swimming but she knew that navigating to different terrains often led her to a larger variety of herbs, and that was something that definitely interested her. The last time she'd ended up on an island - not this exact one, but one significantly farther to the north - she'd met someone in need of help. Briefly she thought of the woman, hoping that her leg had healed quickly and she was faring well.
Truthfully, she found herself hoping that nobody would need her assistance today, though if it proved necessary she would help willingly and without complaint. Though she had always been the independent sort, she was definitely altruistic to the core; a trait she'd definitely not inherited from her father. A slight grin teased her lips as she recalled her parents as her paws hit solid ground as swimming became walking. She was chilled to the core, and briny ocean water dripped freely from her coat as she ambled up the sandy beach.
Ara had never been here before. From a distance she had seen the ruins, a hardly discernible mess of rock and rubble that made even less sense as she rounded on it. She'd heard tales of the beasts who walked on two legs, who lived in these strange dens -- she remembered the one that she'd known from her childhood, when she'd been part of the Seracia pack. It seemed as though nature had sought to reclaim what was originally theirs. Vegetation had overtaken much of the islands, trees springing high all around, vines and moss climbing over the walls of the crumbling structure. Curious, she padded closer, lifting her nose to test the scents in the air. This place was not claimed by any pack, though she hadn't expected it to be. She wondered how much prey she would even encounter here, if any. Surely this was a sanctuary for birds, though she doubted much else found this world very hospitable.
Something caught her eye as moved onward, gingerly padding over a pile of smooth broken glass, worn away by the ocean's tides. Though its edges had been smoothed, she was wary of the foreign matter and had little interest in testing it. Wedged under a small pile of bricks she saw something strange. Using her nose, she pushed some of the rubble to the side, taking a protruding piece of cloth in her mouth, she tugged it free from the wreckage. It was a tattered satchel, made of cloth, now fraying at the edges. Novel had found something like it once.
Briefly her heart lurched in her chest as she studied it, jaws unhinging as she dropped the handle and stared with pained eyes. For a moment she had thought it might've been her wife's, but she quickly decided it wasn't recognizable. It didn't make the thing any less easier to look at, though she recognized its usefulness. Ara studied it quietly for a long moment before sighing sharply. Making the decision to keep it, she lowered her head and slipped her nose under it, jerking her skull up under it until the strap fell over her neck. It wasn't terribly comfortable, but it was something she could find a use for, she figured.
Truthfully, she found herself hoping that nobody would need her assistance today, though if it proved necessary she would help willingly and without complaint. Though she had always been the independent sort, she was definitely altruistic to the core; a trait she'd definitely not inherited from her father. A slight grin teased her lips as she recalled her parents as her paws hit solid ground as swimming became walking. She was chilled to the core, and briny ocean water dripped freely from her coat as she ambled up the sandy beach.
Ara had never been here before. From a distance she had seen the ruins, a hardly discernible mess of rock and rubble that made even less sense as she rounded on it. She'd heard tales of the beasts who walked on two legs, who lived in these strange dens -- she remembered the one that she'd known from her childhood, when she'd been part of the Seracia pack. It seemed as though nature had sought to reclaim what was originally theirs. Vegetation had overtaken much of the islands, trees springing high all around, vines and moss climbing over the walls of the crumbling structure. Curious, she padded closer, lifting her nose to test the scents in the air. This place was not claimed by any pack, though she hadn't expected it to be. She wondered how much prey she would even encounter here, if any. Surely this was a sanctuary for birds, though she doubted much else found this world very hospitable.
Something caught her eye as moved onward, gingerly padding over a pile of smooth broken glass, worn away by the ocean's tides. Though its edges had been smoothed, she was wary of the foreign matter and had little interest in testing it. Wedged under a small pile of bricks she saw something strange. Using her nose, she pushed some of the rubble to the side, taking a protruding piece of cloth in her mouth, she tugged it free from the wreckage. It was a tattered satchel, made of cloth, now fraying at the edges. Novel had found something like it once.
Briefly her heart lurched in her chest as she studied it, jaws unhinging as she dropped the handle and stared with pained eyes. For a moment she had thought it might've been her wife's, but she quickly decided it wasn't recognizable. It didn't make the thing any less easier to look at, though she recognized its usefulness. Ara studied it quietly for a long moment before sighing sharply. Making the decision to keep it, she lowered her head and slipped her nose under it, jerking her skull up under it until the strap fell over her neck. It wasn't terribly comfortable, but it was something she could find a use for, she figured.
