08-10-2008, 09:37 PM
[- Dated...whenever is most convenient. :x -]
It was warmer today. The late morning sky was broken into pieces of thin abalone cloud and stretches of dilute blue. A soft breeze that smelled of the ocean rustled the fields of wild abandoned grape yards. Grayson remained amid the borderlands, unhurriedly looping his way into Dahlia's heart and taking in the sights as he did so. His was a crawling pace, as he was forced to stop for rest breaks often. He didn't mind this. He had survived the game and was accepted into this new pack, which would serve as an acceptable base or refuge, for now. He didn't know how long he was going to stay, but at least he was here. Not dead, not even significantly incapacitated...save for the numbness which remained in his left hand, and the naturally-formed walking stick he had to use.
Here was also better than there.
When the area relinquished itself to forest, Gray paused near a big tree on the fringe and leaned his lean optime body against the cinnamon bark, strong arms crossed loosely over his chest as not to press unduly hard on the bandages. Warm chestnut eyes gazed out at the rolling, once cultured vineyards before he closed them, allowing the sun to wash his weary features. This place felt good. And yet...he missed the mountains.
It was warmer today. The late morning sky was broken into pieces of thin abalone cloud and stretches of dilute blue. A soft breeze that smelled of the ocean rustled the fields of wild abandoned grape yards. Grayson remained amid the borderlands, unhurriedly looping his way into Dahlia's heart and taking in the sights as he did so. His was a crawling pace, as he was forced to stop for rest breaks often. He didn't mind this. He had survived the game and was accepted into this new pack, which would serve as an acceptable base or refuge, for now. He didn't know how long he was going to stay, but at least he was here. Not dead, not even significantly incapacitated...save for the numbness which remained in his left hand, and the naturally-formed walking stick he had to use.
Here was also better than there.
When the area relinquished itself to forest, Gray paused near a big tree on the fringe and leaned his lean optime body against the cinnamon bark, strong arms crossed loosely over his chest as not to press unduly hard on the bandages. Warm chestnut eyes gazed out at the rolling, once cultured vineyards before he closed them, allowing the sun to wash his weary features. This place felt good. And yet...he missed the mountains.