[M][P] - New Beginnings on Strange Shores

Fjor Geirrson · 06-30-2011, 08:00 PM

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WARNING This thread contains: strong language, drug usage, strong violence, or strong sexual content starting with the 1st post. Reader discretion is advised.

243 words

   The sun glittered on the ocean, like thousands of diamonds swimming in a sapphire sea. The waves danced against the shore, slowly advancing for a short, shy kiss to the sands before retreating away. Between the intimate engagement, a lone body lay on the damp sand. Fjor gazed longingly at the sky, his amber eyes following the clouds lazily drifting across the sky.

   He closed his eyes long enough to bring the joint to his lips. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his nostrils.

   Eighteen days, he thought. It was so vivid in his mind, as if it had all happened just yesterday, but felt so ethereal, so distant, as if it had been years. I've been running... for eighteen days.

   And Natia... oh how he longed to hold her again. The smell of pine in her fur, her muzzle buried in his mane, the last time they kissed and the taste of raspberries that lingered on her tongue. Black as the night, but with warm, loving eyes. They reflected onto the world like buttercups on the chin of a pup.

   And then a darkness clouded his thoughts. He raised a paw and waved them away, turning his head to stare out at the rocks on the far shore. A warmth lifted his mind as he felt the drugs taking effect, and he lazily let his lids slip shut again as the waves lapped against his backside. Drifting.... drifting...
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Valinta LeStrange · 06-30-2011, 08:50 PM

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Out of character notes.

As Valinta trudged around, idly looking for either food (not really) or a loner to recruit to her new pack (again, not really), or maybe even something to do (not in the least), the woman blinked lethargicly. It wasn't a day for movement or activity, it was one for just resting in the shade and pretending to be doing what you were supposed to.

In the female's case, recruit members or hunt for her and Gunnar. She wanted to... but didn't. She couldn't really bring herself to say, "Let's get all this work done! Hoo-wee, we're gonna do lots 'n' lots of stuff today!" Not that she'd ever be that upbeat. Or say 'hoo-wee'. Unless it was a dire circumstance. Then possibly. But probably not.

Walking along the beach, something that was probably better than walking around in the sunny field she had before, what with her dark fur, a familiar smell tickled at the woman's sensitive nose. Marijuana. That wasn't new, not since she had tried it with loner Axelle and then Infernian coyote -- and a rather kind and lovely one at that -- Sage. Of course, the last time she had had it it was in January and she was pregnant.

As she moved closer, Valinta saw a man sprawled out along the beach. He was smoking a joint, unsurprisingly. If she wasn't so against Gunnar ever seeing or even thinking that she'd even tried doing drugs, the she-wolf would have asked for a nip in an instant. As it was, she almost collapsed against the ground in a haphazard form of sitting. It would do for the time being.

Not really caring about the fact she was right next to a stranger and had been once attacked by her own pack member, Valinta sprawled out next to him, honestly not caring. Really, why bother? She had a knife on her, anyhow.

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Fjor Geirrson · 06-30-2011, 10:13 PM

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   From the corner of his eye, Fjor saw a figure shimmering against the heat rising from the sands. A dark-furred memory, dancing in the far reaches of his vision. He closed his eyes – this is it. He must be losing it. He was seeing visions of her. He took another toke off of his joint, exhaling in a sigh. At least – in a small way – this would mean he would always be with her. A maddening vision, following him wherever he runs to.

   He opened his right eye slowly, then both as he saw that the hallucination was in the process of sitting down next to him. As she landed, a small spray of sand hit Fjor’s side – it felt so real. He lay staring at her dumbfounded for a few moments before reaching a paw towards her hesitantly.

   “Na.. Natia…” he choked, fumbling over the syllables drunkly. It couldn’t be… was she? “You… you……”

   And in a sudden crashing moment, he realized this was not Natia. The cream fur along her stomach gave her away. He withdrew his hand quickly, raising his torso with his arms, pushing himself awkwardly away from her for a moment, kicking up sand in his brief, awkward crab-walk. He froze, having barely started his move. How rude of him – insulting, even.

   “I… I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else. His ears pricked backwards in shame and apology. “Who are you?” She looked remarkably similar to Natalia. The same small, agile form, the same womanly body…. the same striking eyes… He settled into a less startled position and retrieved the joint from where it fell on the sand, miraculously still smoking.[/html]

Valinta LeStrange · 06-30-2011, 11:01 PM

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Word Count → 000

Thought you might like to know this: Val's got a thick Russian accent. ^^

Valinta raised an eyebrow from behind the sunglasses that slipped down again from her forehead. Adjusting her bright pink hat, she looked at the male. He looked stoned and really surprised. Who the hell was Natia, for that matter? He asked who she was? "I'm obviously not who you thought I was." She pulled down her sunglasses enough for him to see her eyes and she winked.

She looked him over and quirked her lips as he rescued the still-smoldering joint. "And who might you be?" she asked, fully realizing that she didn't give her name at all. The woman didn't feel like it at the moment, staring out at the beautiful sea and letting the sun catch on the reflective surface of her Aviators.

Looking back at the man, settled into a position that didn't show how startled he was by her sudden appearence. Poor guy was drugged up, he probably thought she was this Natia chick. Valinta quirked her lips again, less of a smile, more of a sardonic twitch of her lips. She idly wondered if he even knew what he was talking about. She sure as hell didn't when she was high.

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Fjor Geirrson · 07-01-2011, 02:50 PM

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   It took him a few seconds to process what she had said. Not who you thought I was… Of course not. It was foolish to think his own subconscious would take that much pity on him when he couldn’t even bring himself to look at his own reflection.

   ”I’m a lost soul, floating in a river of empty dreams into an ocean of this broken reality.” His voice was soft, hurt. His eyes were glossy, unfocused, and it seemed as if he were looking through her, rather than at her. Was she actually real, or was this ethereal haze taking control of the recesses of his mind, abusing him and toying with his boiling emotions? ”Are… are you a hallucination?” he asked, furrowing his brows at her.

   He shook his head slowly, covering his forehead with his paw for a moment. ”I’m sorry. Of course not. No, no no no. Nothing of the sorts…” He remembered her inquiry. Who was he? He was an outcast, a drifter. He was lost, he was confused, and he was scared. He was high, and he was low. He was a failure, an embarrassment, a shell of the man he used to be. He was… ”Fjor. My name is Fjor.” The words were practically spat, his name spoken with a snarl of disapproval and self-hatred.

   ”I…. your name?” She was beautiful. Somewhere in his mind he recognized that. She was a fine example of womanhood. But looking at her, despite her ridiculous garb, he saw Natia reflected in his eyes. She was his world – and nothing could ever replace her, or even come close.
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