Post by kaea on Oct 26, 2010 0:11:25 GMT -5
CROATAN
We see him. Our eyes are tired, lids wishing to droop as we demand that our minds break from the lull of sleep. It is very early for him to be up and roaming about. It is very early for him to be loathing his existance, and yet, enjoying it both at once. He plays no games. Never. Since the young one disappeared. His Bones. She left a hole. But there was already a hole, you see. It just widened ever more. His morbid thoughts are ever more usual. Hating the lonelieness that creeps within him. We have studied. We have seen. We know. No one can touch this soul. The soul that milks the happiness from the morning blossoms and tosses it away carelessly, and rejoices at the thought emptiness, because he fears that any happiness he gains will soon be ripped away. Like it was before. Like it always is, eventually. But let us watch, so we can know more about our subject.
It was early. Far too early for him to be wandering. The morning mist was heavily drifting across the rocky beach, attesting to the fact that the sun hadn't yet risen enough to ward off the chill of dawn. His dual-toned pelt twitched ever so slightly, the chill seeming to seep into his bones. He was enjoying it. His steady, albeit slow, gate moved in an even pattern, muscled legs barely working themselves as they moved effortlessly forward over the terrain. He found his gaze moving out over the water, timbered orbs taking in the slowly curling waves as if it might be a cold drink on a visciously hot summer day. He had always enjoyed the ocean. Beautiful sights in winter, and wonderful relief in the summer. Casting his gaze back down the beach, the deep brown of his pelt glistened from both the morning mist, and the subtle sweat from his early morning roaming. You could say this beast hadn't been able to sleep much the night before. You would, for all intents and purposes, be correct. He'd rissen with the darkness still heavily cloaking the land. He didn't know why. Something had moved within him. Stirred him to rise. When most were probably still snuggled down, warding against the night's chill, he was already moving purposefully across the land, as if he had something important to do.
He couldn't help the chuckle that slid past his lips. What could possibly be so important as to drag him here when yet the sun had not fully rissen, and surely no one else had awoken, much less drifted here of all places? This morning his mind was a churning mess. This morning it boiled over with unimportant thoughts, like too many annoying melodies that one could not remove from their mind. His white maw twitched, the corners of his lips pulling up just slightly, as his dark, timber colored voids roved the land, scoping out life. He certainly doubted anyone would be here so early. It wouldn't surprise him if his trek upon this land proved futile in his efforts to alieve whatever had driven him here. Curiousity screamed at the front of his mind. Demanding to know what could possibly have drug him here at such and ungodly hour! Before he knew another deep toned chuckle was sliding past his lips. He was, in fact, laughing at himself. He'd dragged himself here at this hour, only to realize how he loathed himself for even dragging himself from sleep at such an unintentional hour. Drifting forward, always forward, his voids scoped the land one more time, as if by chance, he would find something to make up for his early morning stupidity.
Tossing back his heavy head, he groaned audibly, forelock flying back with little effort. He knew, by experience, that he wouldn't be able to send himself back to sleep. One never did after whiping sleep from themselves so early in the morning. So what would he do? Drift pointlessly from land to land, hoping something would fill the void of the boredom that would, no doubt, sink in so early in the morning? Even he loathed boredom. Loneliness was one thing, while boredom bordered on precariously hated, loneliness had been so deep within him for so long, that he had forgotten what companionship felt like. So, more than likely, he would do his daily roaming alone, never feeling the cold emptiness within him. Never noticing that no answered his outward remarks, or that no comfort was given from another. He'd had only his thoughts to keep him company for so long, that he wouldn't know what to do with companionship. But boredom? Loathsome, hated, and disparaging boredom? Now that was something best dealt with immediately, despite the grouchiness settling in from his unintended rising. Yes, you could say Croatan was odd in his own way. He was, clearly, ever used to his solitary roamings, as long as boredom was kept contentedly at bay. But, for the life of him, boredom rang crisply throughout the land, dragging him to roam, knowing he would find nothing; no one to fill the void within his lifeless heart.
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