03-25-2008, 10:28 PM
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STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES
Oh hai Jes. I r making posts at snail's pace.
BUT BUDDHA RESTS INSIDE ME
It had to be said: the antiqued hull of the abandoned S.S. Queen Anne's Revenge and the damp, sticky sand of Thunder Island were a far cry from the the rolling green hills and pretty little townhouses of Eidolon in Wales. But as there had been slaughter with rusty daggers behind the doors of the townhouses, and ritual sacrifice in broad daylight on the hills, the lackluster accommodations of Lightning Bay could be easily overlooked. Better yet, to Zacor, they hadn't even registered. He didn't see his new home with Anathra for what it wasn't; instead, he saw it was for it was. It was an amoral place, and therefore better than the immoral Eidolon. The history of the island held no wrongdoings in need of being made right; there had been no maidens raped or young boys killed in the name of Pagan gods, and although one man or another might have met his end here, that was all right, because it had not been at the will of the wicked and corrupt.
This was a nice place with salty air, a place where you could sit with your arms crossed in Buddhist zen, and only that piquant air would remind you that you were still alive. However, it wouldn't be long now before high tide, and the former Sian prince didn't want to be stuck across the sand bar, in some place even less familiar than the ship already was. He and Anathra had only just arrived here, perhaps a day or two before, and he had yet to learn all the intricate details of the deserted cruiseliner's every nook and cranny. There were spiderwebs yet to be known and chests full of human relics yet to be explored. Now was not the time to become stranded, especially considering how little he knew of the rest of Nova Scotia. He needed to get back to Anathra, who knew a lot more of the former country's landmarks and lore.
The time for sitting in the sand at perfect ease with Buddhist zen had been over for at least ten minutes as Z neared the end of the sand bar, kicking aside small pebbles and shells as he approached the ship that was now just a few strides away. When he reached the dirtied giant, he crawled inside its opening and began working his way through the wild maze of rooms until he reached the cabin he and Anathra had chosen as their own. After a bit of redecorating, it had become a homey little place. He smiled as he caught the sight of the pretty redhead sprawled out over the ancient bed and for a second, he contemplated moving his own reddish locks out of his face to get a better view. In the end, though, apathy got the better of him. "Hey," he said with a weak smile. He was an anti-social thing, unsure of where to go next. His conversations always started out this way (if they started at all), but with Anathra, they were starting to improve as words wore on.
She had saved him from Eidolon, and someday, he was going to have to thank her. But the time for that was likely a bit far off, and it certainly wasn't now.
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Oh hai Jes. I r making posts at snail's pace.
BUT BUDDHA RESTS INSIDE ME
It had to be said: the antiqued hull of the abandoned S.S. Queen Anne's Revenge and the damp, sticky sand of Thunder Island were a far cry from the the rolling green hills and pretty little townhouses of Eidolon in Wales. But as there had been slaughter with rusty daggers behind the doors of the townhouses, and ritual sacrifice in broad daylight on the hills, the lackluster accommodations of Lightning Bay could be easily overlooked. Better yet, to Zacor, they hadn't even registered. He didn't see his new home with Anathra for what it wasn't; instead, he saw it was for it was. It was an amoral place, and therefore better than the immoral Eidolon. The history of the island held no wrongdoings in need of being made right; there had been no maidens raped or young boys killed in the name of Pagan gods, and although one man or another might have met his end here, that was all right, because it had not been at the will of the wicked and corrupt.
This was a nice place with salty air, a place where you could sit with your arms crossed in Buddhist zen, and only that piquant air would remind you that you were still alive. However, it wouldn't be long now before high tide, and the former Sian prince didn't want to be stuck across the sand bar, in some place even less familiar than the ship already was. He and Anathra had only just arrived here, perhaps a day or two before, and he had yet to learn all the intricate details of the deserted cruiseliner's every nook and cranny. There were spiderwebs yet to be known and chests full of human relics yet to be explored. Now was not the time to become stranded, especially considering how little he knew of the rest of Nova Scotia. He needed to get back to Anathra, who knew a lot more of the former country's landmarks and lore.
The time for sitting in the sand at perfect ease with Buddhist zen had been over for at least ten minutes as Z neared the end of the sand bar, kicking aside small pebbles and shells as he approached the ship that was now just a few strides away. When he reached the dirtied giant, he crawled inside its opening and began working his way through the wild maze of rooms until he reached the cabin he and Anathra had chosen as their own. After a bit of redecorating, it had become a homey little place. He smiled as he caught the sight of the pretty redhead sprawled out over the ancient bed and for a second, he contemplated moving his own reddish locks out of his face to get a better view. In the end, though, apathy got the better of him. "Hey," he said with a weak smile. He was an anti-social thing, unsure of where to go next. His conversations always started out this way (if they started at all), but with Anathra, they were starting to improve as words wore on.
She had saved him from Eidolon, and someday, he was going to have to thank her. But the time for that was likely a bit far off, and it certainly wasn't now.