Author Topic: ducks out for harambe [prp hecate]  (Read 350 times)

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ducks out for harambe [prp hecate]
« on: July 27, 2016, 12:29:53 AM »
He is still exploring.

One foot in front of the other is the method Dexus has been using to explore this place over the past however-long-he’s-been-here. He had taken no specific direction, no specific goal, no specific destination, and the results were interesting. He was beginning to find more and more, found that this territory is not as bland as he thought it was, found that it contained a lot more variety than Saboro had, and perhaps that would be a good thing for him. He needs it. Where it first terrified him and made him uncomfortable, Dexus has begun to wake up looking forward to his explorations.

After all, the place is big, and one wolf isn’t going to discover every nook and cranny in a day. For some time now, the long and lithe male had been following a river through the territory to see where it would go. A body of water, surely. He is approaching a break in the trees where he can see what appears to be a lake in the distance, or at least part of it. He does not quicken his pace, he remains steady, but god does he come to a dead halt the moment that he reaches that split in the trees. There is stone, a lot of it, and something else. The birds stop. He stops. His heart stops. His breathing stops. In truth, Dexus should no longer be surprised by all of the new things he is experiencing—he is finding day by day that Saboro had limited him in more ways than previously thought, but there isn’t much that could have prepared him for something like this.

There is water. So much water. Everywhere. It goes on forever, it seems, and Dexus wonders vaguely if this is where the Earth he walks on ends. The shoreline seems to go on forever too, it seems. Where does one half end and the other begin? It takes a moment for some sense to return to Dexus. Again, one foot after another, he approaches the waters. They come to the rocks gently but firmly, crashing and spilling over them, seeping between others, leaving everything slippery and wet as it pulls back into the ocean. This is different from the lake in Saboro, that much is apparent— even the shoreline bears no resemblance.

He keeps on moving forward, trying his best not to slip on the rocks and fall. He can feel his claws scraping against the stone, peeling away the film the water had left there. He stops only when he gets wrist-deep, when anxiety begins to set in.

“I never knew these things could exist.”

Somewhere in his chest is an aching throb he cannot place. It’s a long, long way from home.