11-04-2007, 01:20 PM
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| A line of dark green reeds stretched along the riverbank, leaning backwards towards the handsome trees that flanked them, and swaying forward ever so often in the delicate autumn breeze. Every now and again, one would dip into the water and cause a ripple that would slowly expand and touch the side of the meandering brook. It was afternoon, and the sun was high and regal, shooting vast waves of pure white sunlight onto the already near-retreating day. Beneath it, amongst others, walked the tall voyager known only as Tamerlane. Storm was his home, though exploration and travel was still his forte. With his trademark grey-black eyes he surveyed the landscape, hooking his hands idly on his rope belt as he walked. Soon, he sat down by aforementioned river, pulling one knee up and balancing his wrist on it, and stretching the other long leg out before him. His back leant against the cold bark of the sturdy tree behind him, and he watched the water of the brook ripple. Tamerlane considered beauty to come in thousands of forms; he was notably open-minded. So in many ways, the delicate modesty of the small river was just as beautiful as the wild mountains and rugged pastures that rolled beyond that dark horizon. |