Post by Lirriel on Oct 9, 2017 21:12:27 GMT -5
I lost a friend, somewhere along in the bitterness
Salome’s chance blew in like a squall.
His wearied legs had carried him away from the shoreline, deeper into the mountainous terrain of the island – and he had promised his fishers it would be but a moment, a chance to check upon their guest. And perhaps it had been more than that – perhaps he had meant to go farther, go further, for what other reason would carry him so deeply, into the heart of the island?
Craggy rock rose around him, guttered with foliage thick and leafy. It was a quiet place, a silent place, and as such he did not at first realize the curiosity that had overcome the island. It was only when a comet streaked overhead and a blinding light scorched his eyes that he was aware of the eerie calm that had overtaken his home. Whereas the hoots of leaping lemurs and the echoing cries of brightly-feathered birds were a constant staple of the Sharktooth Island, were an undeniable part of its character – they were now strangely silent, and Salome shivered beneath his skinny pelt.
Uneasily, he rocked on his rigged limbs, his ears quivering even as he desperately blinked, trying to rid himself of the sunspots that had clouded his eyes.
His jaws clamped tightly, molars grinding against each other, as he fought down the howl that clawed at his throat walls. It was too easy to fall into despair; but he was not that wolf, refused to be that wolf. The pack cared nothing for him – were it one of the younger members in distress, they would immediately flock to its side.
But he was the lead fisher. He was their fear, he was their distrust, and he had the many lonely nights to show for his dedication to his job.
And because he was lead fisher, because he was alone, because he was Salome and not a soft-touch like Iiona and not a fool like Halcyon, his lips only curled back in a wolven grin, his head dropping, as the voice resounded in his head.
’A god,’ he thought.
Aloud, his voice schooled to a pleasant, empty tenor he had so often used against his fellow council members, he spoke to the reverberating air, “Lady Chaos, if it is amusement you seek, then perhaps turn your eyes upon me.”
It was too easy to wish for power. Too easy to wish for mighty strength, for trickery, for shadows – too easy to be consumed by the very fire one sought to control. And so, that grin still stretched across his maw, he continued, voice silky and soft, “I seek a mastery of truth. To know when others lie, to eventually force nothing but certainties past their sinner’s tongue – surely you see how such a power might spread a little chaos.”
His wearied legs had carried him away from the shoreline, deeper into the mountainous terrain of the island – and he had promised his fishers it would be but a moment, a chance to check upon their guest. And perhaps it had been more than that – perhaps he had meant to go farther, go further, for what other reason would carry him so deeply, into the heart of the island?
Craggy rock rose around him, guttered with foliage thick and leafy. It was a quiet place, a silent place, and as such he did not at first realize the curiosity that had overcome the island. It was only when a comet streaked overhead and a blinding light scorched his eyes that he was aware of the eerie calm that had overtaken his home. Whereas the hoots of leaping lemurs and the echoing cries of brightly-feathered birds were a constant staple of the Sharktooth Island, were an undeniable part of its character – they were now strangely silent, and Salome shivered beneath his skinny pelt.
Uneasily, he rocked on his rigged limbs, his ears quivering even as he desperately blinked, trying to rid himself of the sunspots that had clouded his eyes.
His jaws clamped tightly, molars grinding against each other, as he fought down the howl that clawed at his throat walls. It was too easy to fall into despair; but he was not that wolf, refused to be that wolf. The pack cared nothing for him – were it one of the younger members in distress, they would immediately flock to its side.
But he was the lead fisher. He was their fear, he was their distrust, and he had the many lonely nights to show for his dedication to his job.
And because he was lead fisher, because he was alone, because he was Salome and not a soft-touch like Iiona and not a fool like Halcyon, his lips only curled back in a wolven grin, his head dropping, as the voice resounded in his head.
’A god,’ he thought.
Aloud, his voice schooled to a pleasant, empty tenor he had so often used against his fellow council members, he spoke to the reverberating air, “Lady Chaos, if it is amusement you seek, then perhaps turn your eyes upon me.”
It was too easy to wish for power. Too easy to wish for mighty strength, for trickery, for shadows – too easy to be consumed by the very fire one sought to control. And so, that grin still stretched across his maw, he continued, voice silky and soft, “I seek a mastery of truth. To know when others lie, to eventually force nothing but certainties past their sinner’s tongue – surely you see how such a power might spread a little chaos.”
| @chaos | 466 words | stock by Ria P. @ dawnthieves | ||
