01-10-2012, 09:45 PM
The morning fog was still.
Thin swirls of pale mist clung to green-leafed branches beaded in dew, and the brightly dappled leaves glistened vividly—seemingly alive amid the ghostly colors. In fact, so still was the world at this hour, Insomnia might have been the only soul with flesh and a warm beating heart. It sounded more like thunder to Insomnia, and she wished she could will that vulnerable organ to be silent, just like the rest of the world. And yet it was there, always, a steady thrum of wild, wild wings reminding her she could never be still.
The cool sheets of whiteness threaded like pale serpents through the vivid greenness of the trees, the grasses, and the sprawling valley. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the sounds of nature until she walked these green summer-fields once more, feeling the swaying grass gently tickle her knees, and listening to the vibrant hum of thick-bodied bees in the air. It was bittersweet—all of it was. It was as if she could reach out and touch the memories the land had kept for her, stored away in the particulars of nature that it knew she would remember. They were pooled in her mind like the hazy morning mist, swirling white and cool, and tangling through her reminiscing thoughts.
She didn’t know what part of the pack lands she was in. But it hardly mattered, it was the thrill of adventure and mystery that Perdita sought, and she had been exploring the reaches of the land on and off throughout the past few weeks. Today was no different. This is her new forever home and, she intended to know it well. There was no use being a stranger in her own world, since she knew no one but the one who had met her on the outskirts of the scented markings. She would be alone, even within this "family" pack. Not even a young orphaned pup could know this feeling.
Insomnia contrasted sharply with the vibrant colors of white morning; the darkness of her fur like a starless midnight, shimmering metallic against pure white. Even her eyes, a bright teal-flower blue like the sky and the other a murky vibrant green, were pools of color in this colorless world. She watched the looped paths of the butterflies flash and flutter across the green-misted meadow, looking like bright orange stars amid a sea of grass. With a deep breath, Insomnia turned in a single, fluid motion, and before she knew it, she was doing the only thing she’d ever known in her life—she ran.
It was different this time, though. She wasn’t fleeing. Her legs flew over the earth in a passionate fervor, simply for the joy of freedom and the feel of the wind in her fur. Nature blurred her eyesight as she ran, leaving afterimages in her irises.
Sometimes, in hours like this, between the earth and the sky, Insomnia was helplessly glad to be alive.
It was only then, when she felt her heart would burst into a thousand pieces, did she stop running. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as she drew to an unsteady halt, and coldness seized her; she could feel the frost stinging her paws and the sharp air burning her gasping lungs. A gaping hole in the earth yawned before her, whispers of death and darkness that never knew summer unfurling in frozen waves from its pale mouth. She felt drawn here, enthralled by the enticing scent of danger and wonder, shrouded in veils of mystery and winter that lasted forever.
Her claws clicked on the dirt patched tunnel floor, sound like a wind-chime fashioned from sun-bleached bones and leaf-less walls, and her breath curled and twisted in pale ribbons before her, freezing her delicate eyelashes. The cold and the darkness embraced her in a cool embrace of emptiness and silence, and again, it was only the thrumming wings of her heart keeping her company. She had always enjoyed the cold, the way it stung her lungs and prickled against her warm satin flesh. The world had always seemed more alive, more vibrant when it was cold. A kaleidoscope of colors she had only ever seen beneath the sea, flowered across her skin—murky blues and greens, and it was as if the aurora borealis itself was shamed by her starless fur.
WC: 738
Thin swirls of pale mist clung to green-leafed branches beaded in dew, and the brightly dappled leaves glistened vividly—seemingly alive amid the ghostly colors. In fact, so still was the world at this hour, Insomnia might have been the only soul with flesh and a warm beating heart. It sounded more like thunder to Insomnia, and she wished she could will that vulnerable organ to be silent, just like the rest of the world. And yet it was there, always, a steady thrum of wild, wild wings reminding her she could never be still.
The cool sheets of whiteness threaded like pale serpents through the vivid greenness of the trees, the grasses, and the sprawling valley. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the sounds of nature until she walked these green summer-fields once more, feeling the swaying grass gently tickle her knees, and listening to the vibrant hum of thick-bodied bees in the air. It was bittersweet—all of it was. It was as if she could reach out and touch the memories the land had kept for her, stored away in the particulars of nature that it knew she would remember. They were pooled in her mind like the hazy morning mist, swirling white and cool, and tangling through her reminiscing thoughts.
She didn’t know what part of the pack lands she was in. But it hardly mattered, it was the thrill of adventure and mystery that Perdita sought, and she had been exploring the reaches of the land on and off throughout the past few weeks. Today was no different. This is her new forever home and, she intended to know it well. There was no use being a stranger in her own world, since she knew no one but the one who had met her on the outskirts of the scented markings. She would be alone, even within this "family" pack. Not even a young orphaned pup could know this feeling.
Insomnia contrasted sharply with the vibrant colors of white morning; the darkness of her fur like a starless midnight, shimmering metallic against pure white. Even her eyes, a bright teal-flower blue like the sky and the other a murky vibrant green, were pools of color in this colorless world. She watched the looped paths of the butterflies flash and flutter across the green-misted meadow, looking like bright orange stars amid a sea of grass. With a deep breath, Insomnia turned in a single, fluid motion, and before she knew it, she was doing the only thing she’d ever known in her life—she ran.
It was different this time, though. She wasn’t fleeing. Her legs flew over the earth in a passionate fervor, simply for the joy of freedom and the feel of the wind in her fur. Nature blurred her eyesight as she ran, leaving afterimages in her irises.
Sometimes, in hours like this, between the earth and the sky, Insomnia was helplessly glad to be alive.
It was only then, when she felt her heart would burst into a thousand pieces, did she stop running. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as she drew to an unsteady halt, and coldness seized her; she could feel the frost stinging her paws and the sharp air burning her gasping lungs. A gaping hole in the earth yawned before her, whispers of death and darkness that never knew summer unfurling in frozen waves from its pale mouth. She felt drawn here, enthralled by the enticing scent of danger and wonder, shrouded in veils of mystery and winter that lasted forever.
Her claws clicked on the dirt patched tunnel floor, sound like a wind-chime fashioned from sun-bleached bones and leaf-less walls, and her breath curled and twisted in pale ribbons before her, freezing her delicate eyelashes. The cold and the darkness embraced her in a cool embrace of emptiness and silence, and again, it was only the thrumming wings of her heart keeping her company. She had always enjoyed the cold, the way it stung her lungs and prickled against her warm satin flesh. The world had always seemed more alive, more vibrant when it was cold. A kaleidoscope of colors she had only ever seen beneath the sea, flowered across her skin—murky blues and greens, and it was as if the aurora borealis itself was shamed by her starless fur.
WC: 738