Post by Wyvernspire on Jan 30, 2023 19:20:56 GMT -6
A fresh frost of air brushed against the toms face; a gentle but sudden breeze. The tom, Wyvernspire, sat his guard in a small opening of the forest, the borderline outskirts of the central camp. Wyvern had not travelled far from the warriors den before sinking himself to the ground. He sat firmly, but not an on-edge type of firm, a sunken firm, like his paws had rooted deeply into the ground and his body sat motionless as if the earth had finally swallowed him up and turned him to stone. A sharp, broad, furry stone. His spine flexed briefly in the cold and small bristles of umber fur waved like the grass blades in the gentle breeze. He sat there, motionless, staring, unblinking, with no ounce of thought. The usual.
Surrounded by great twists and turns of knotted tree branch overhead, dark branching canopies and shadowed grass patches, isolated by nothing but trees and grass and dirt. Not a cat to be seen. It was almost as if a bear or a monster or a gigantic dog with burning hot breath could appear at any moment, and in this prediction that the even occurred, he would not move, he would not stir, he wouldn't blink in the slightest of surprise. He was just there, existing in this open clearing, no thought, no nothing.
And then suddenly, the gentle breeze of Makalu frost sparked a quiet thought that almost suddenly triggered a chain reaction of thoughts to come tumbling and twisting in his mind all at once, his gaze drifted and ever so slightly you could see the passive shift in his expression as his thoughts came flooding back. It had been not long since his ceremony. Wyvernspire still in his mind it was a weird thing, his name, and still it was a weird thing to get used to. Though, it didn't really matter anyway, it had been moons since he spoke to anyone really, not since the ceremony, not before the ceremony, There was nothing. Only maybe the brief nod or shake of the head, or a mere glance of acknowledgment, suppose nobody wanted to talk to him, as he was just plainly and simply boring. But still he couldn't be sad, as it was his own problem, his own fault. He stopped talking, now his clanmates barely knew him, and even who he was before the era of non-speaking.
Why don't they just say it? Why don't they just say get out of whatever hole your in and toughen up, get over yourself, get over it.
Wyvernspire would. But now it was almost an addiction and to even try and go back to who he was wouldn't work, it couldn't. he didn't know how. Now this was just who he was, boring and isolated. And after all, change is scary when you know what you are, even when you don’t like what you are. Consequently, it was also easy to wonder if and when things would get better, or why things were the way they were — instead of how, and what. He often thought, “Why won’t it change?” instead of, “How can it?” but simply now, he was a lost soul. He came accepting of the daunting abyss that swallowed him up, or rather had surrendered to it. His thoughts were an ocean so big that if to be seen by a neighbouring soul, an outsider to his mind, it could just be drawn to conclusion that he had lost a sense of reality, he was trapped elsewhere, windowing reality, drowning by nothing but a headache.
And maybe it could be considered true, in some ways.
The tom finally shifted demeanour, he blinked and stretched his limbs, gazing over to the murky sky. That was him done for the day.
Surrounded by great twists and turns of knotted tree branch overhead, dark branching canopies and shadowed grass patches, isolated by nothing but trees and grass and dirt. Not a cat to be seen. It was almost as if a bear or a monster or a gigantic dog with burning hot breath could appear at any moment, and in this prediction that the even occurred, he would not move, he would not stir, he wouldn't blink in the slightest of surprise. He was just there, existing in this open clearing, no thought, no nothing.
And then suddenly, the gentle breeze of Makalu frost sparked a quiet thought that almost suddenly triggered a chain reaction of thoughts to come tumbling and twisting in his mind all at once, his gaze drifted and ever so slightly you could see the passive shift in his expression as his thoughts came flooding back. It had been not long since his ceremony. Wyvernspire still in his mind it was a weird thing, his name, and still it was a weird thing to get used to. Though, it didn't really matter anyway, it had been moons since he spoke to anyone really, not since the ceremony, not before the ceremony, There was nothing. Only maybe the brief nod or shake of the head, or a mere glance of acknowledgment, suppose nobody wanted to talk to him, as he was just plainly and simply boring. But still he couldn't be sad, as it was his own problem, his own fault. He stopped talking, now his clanmates barely knew him, and even who he was before the era of non-speaking.
Why don't they just say it? Why don't they just say get out of whatever hole your in and toughen up, get over yourself, get over it.
Wyvernspire would. But now it was almost an addiction and to even try and go back to who he was wouldn't work, it couldn't. he didn't know how. Now this was just who he was, boring and isolated. And after all, change is scary when you know what you are, even when you don’t like what you are. Consequently, it was also easy to wonder if and when things would get better, or why things were the way they were — instead of how, and what. He often thought, “Why won’t it change?” instead of, “How can it?” but simply now, he was a lost soul. He came accepting of the daunting abyss that swallowed him up, or rather had surrendered to it. His thoughts were an ocean so big that if to be seen by a neighbouring soul, an outsider to his mind, it could just be drawn to conclusion that he had lost a sense of reality, he was trapped elsewhere, windowing reality, drowning by nothing but a headache.
And maybe it could be considered true, in some ways.
The tom finally shifted demeanour, he blinked and stretched his limbs, gazing over to the murky sky. That was him done for the day.
