angry walls that steal the air

Kansas Sadira · 10-19-2011, 05:08 AM

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500+

In his heart was the sense that something was about to erupt, the chaos of the war among his pack and its neighbors mounting uncontrollably. The pale Sadira seldom took time for leisure, which symbolized an abrupt change in his general attitude. He paid excessive attention to the whereabouts of his loved ones, checking on them often, and when he was not attending to this duty he took on others, with frequent patrols of the borders being the most common. The war had forced him outside of himself, and while he hated the cause, the change was welcome. He had needed something to spur him into useful action, and somehow he felt freer and more confident with the addition of purpose to his existence. It would linger even after the trouble had ensued and ended at last. It shamed him that a war had been necessary to alter his mindset, but he was quietly glad that something had finally knocked some sense into him.

He had undertaken his usual routine throughout the remarkably sunny day, checking in with his mate and her partner in leadership, nosing around Crimson Dreams to briefly speak with each of his children and satisfy himself with their safety. Toward midafternoon, the white wolf found himself back in his room, wishing to sit on the bed and relax for a few moments until he decided what next to do with his time. His eyes wandered slowly to the guitar in the corner of the room, its frets dulled by a layer of gray dust, and a deep longing appeared in his calm expression. With a sigh he approached the guitar, touched the beautiful wood. The music that his hands had once created played temptingly in his mind. His elongated digits twitched and drew back, ears falling sadly. It would be selfish of him to venture off, to lose his momentum. But his thoughts were tangled into an anxious knot, a knot easily loosened by... music. In the weeks since he had picked up the instrument, the Sadira had become jittery, and until now he had not consciously recognized it. Warily, he turned and glanced out the window, where emerald fans of pine branches brushed against the window, battered softly by the gentle breeze outside.

For several moments the poor man was in turmoil, even close to tears. There was so much to think about, and it was so very difficult to organize those thoughts into sense. His brow furrowed in distress, he glanced at the guitar, unable to deny that playing it would help him. Perhaps Savina and Anu would not be too disappointed if he disappeared for a few hours, it had been so long since he had taken the liberty as he used to so thoughtlessly. With his decision, Kansas grabbed the guitar quickly, threw his satchel over his shoulder, and sped out of his room.

He exited the manor into the bright mocking sunshine, pale eyes half-lidded to shield burning rays. He moved at a quick pace toward the South, the guitar clutched protectively to his chest. It did not take him more than a quarter of an hour to leave the confines of Crimson Dreams' autumn-bright forest, where the colorful deciduous trees disappeared entirely, and the conifers sparsely defined the flat, rocky land. He had reached The Trenches, where the lack of forest allowed the most vibrant sunshine and coolest breezes. Mindful of his instrument, Kansas avoided the steep and rocky paths, and since he did not wish to go far, he quickly found a patch of earth that was soft underfoot, a bed of rock from which sprouted a few soft patches of yellowing grass. He reclined, crossing his limbs, and after removing his bag and setting it aside he merely leaned over his guitar, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as he breathed the fresh air with relief and abandon. Moments passed, his anxiety ebbing as he came closer to fully realizing that he was about to do what he loved to do the most, after relinquishing it for so long. His hands settled in their rightful places, one at the neck of the guitar, the other at the strings. He opened his eyes and smiled a little as his claws began their dance and music filled the silence. This was what he needed.

Image courtesy of Bethesda Game Studios/Fallout 3; table by the Mentors!

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