11-23-2007, 01:31 AM
[html]
Tristan Nakado
July 19, 2004
Luperci
melissa.surgent@gmail.com
a talented child (AIM)
indent It had been over three years. He had lost track of time, but never his goal, not until recently. Now, he couldn’t remember why he had left; only that he had. No explanation, no reasoning. The wilderness had called and he had gone. For as long as he could remember he walked, following no pattern, going from one road to another. In that time, he had seen a thousand different faces, and never remained in one place long. Still, he could never be truly happy as long as he was alone—so he had gone on, as he always had.
indent Something had changed though. He had caught their scents along the way. One he had known; his sister Alarice, whom he had not seen in years. The other, while familiar, had no name. So Tristan had come. His build had not changed considerably since his youth—while he had lost most of his bulk, he was still large like his father and this made things easier. The only thing that had really changed was his eyes. Born dark blue, as was the natural pattern, they had begun to lighten and were now nearly colorless and slate-gray.
indent An invisible line signaled this was the end of the road (at least, for the moment). Shifting his weight and settling onto his haunches, the burly male waited. Someone would come, and someone would give him the answers he was looking for.
July 19, 2004
Luperci
melissa.surgent@gmail.com
a talented child (AIM)
indent It had been over three years. He had lost track of time, but never his goal, not until recently. Now, he couldn’t remember why he had left; only that he had. No explanation, no reasoning. The wilderness had called and he had gone. For as long as he could remember he walked, following no pattern, going from one road to another. In that time, he had seen a thousand different faces, and never remained in one place long. Still, he could never be truly happy as long as he was alone—so he had gone on, as he always had.
indent Something had changed though. He had caught their scents along the way. One he had known; his sister Alarice, whom he had not seen in years. The other, while familiar, had no name. So Tristan had come. His build had not changed considerably since his youth—while he had lost most of his bulk, he was still large like his father and this made things easier. The only thing that had really changed was his eyes. Born dark blue, as was the natural pattern, they had begun to lighten and were now nearly colorless and slate-gray.
indent An invisible line signaled this was the end of the road (at least, for the moment). Shifting his weight and settling onto his haunches, the burly male waited. Someone would come, and someone would give him the answers he was looking for.