creating something out of nothing

Caillen Winters · 08-14-2010, 09:32 PM

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Table © Gen
wooo! <3 you are a lovely writer :3 sorry for the long post - muse is running rampant today!
wc: 566

The day was soft and light, warn sun filtering through crystal-clear air and settling in dreamy pools of gold on the surface of e'erything. This was a world in which the vagabond truly belonged - A world of stunning veracity, tranquil entrancement, a world without shadows and closed doors. But Caillen was not his usual dreamer's self - Alas, the poor boy had a lot on his mind, and it was mostly to do with and encounter the day previous.

Did loosing one's virginity make him a man? Caillen wasn't sure. He wasn't really sure of anything. Had that woman, Lolita, truly had the power to change him from hapless youth to strong maturity? Again, another question with no answer. Troubled by the unusual inner turmoil his thoughts created, the Merle-pelted youth had barely enough outer-conscious thought that he nearly ran into a tree. Twice.

In truth, he didn't feel that different. Well, he'd felt good; Yes, that was definately the truth. Pleasure was a definitely good thing. But it was as the disappointment after a birthday, when one might realize that age was truly an illusion, and that they'd gained so sublime wisdom from the passing of a single day. So perhaps he was still the dreamer he'd always been, the boy stuck in a young man's fast-growing body. For Caillen stood at a remarkable height, his father's genes permitting the youth outstanding growth, such that even though his blood was mixed with that of collie, he often stood taller than pure-blood wolves. He was a strange sight, too; That motley slate and ivory pelt, tipped with soft tan and gold, those wondrously sky-blue eyes, widened innocently to seek each day as it came.

Unaware of his wanderings, the youth had stumbled out of Halifax in a dreamy cloud of confusion, and found himself wandering aimlessly in the direction of the Shattered Coast. The scent of salt-water was soothing, for it reminded him of his first months of life in the Cour des Miracles packland, where the nearby beaches had sparkled sapphire. Much fun had been had, then, before the ticklish feet had stolen him away. Wander-lust, the need to become a true man, had pushed him to explore.

The sound of music caught the attention of one floppy ear and one erect. Unaware that his feet had chosen to find the source of the humming, Caillen allowed his curiosity to be plucked. Footpaws crunched softly on the ground, his long tail wagging faintly in anticipation. Before the youth could find the owner of such a sweet tune, thought, it ceased, and the world around him seemed awfully silent without it. Frowning slightly, the Optime male continued in the direction he'd been heading, closer and closer to the coast. Finally, he came upon her; In the sunlight she dose, gossamer string of hazy gold whispering across her tawny pelt. She wore strange clothing. Caillen looked remotely down at his own bare-clad body, clothed only in the checkered grey scarf that danced about his neck in the whispering breeze. Sky blue eyes returned to the lady. She seemed to be sleeping, and it felt wrong to stand here, watching her, without her knowledge. It felt like he was looking in on a secret, something he shouldn't know. Sleep was the purest form of vulnerability.

He cleared his throat once. Then again. Then, "Er, excuss me, miss?"

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