Post by Strike on Aug 19, 2013 14:07:14 GMT -5
It was his second day out of his prison. Very aware of the collaboration of men and women following him as they clutched their artillery, he ignored their presence. It hadn’t been too hard as they kept a good distance from him but he felt the burning stares on the back of his head. As he did with everything now a days, he ignored it and moved forward to do as he wished. Day 1 had not been as freeing as he had thought and he had not managed as much exploration as he had hoped for. If he was ever to leave of this place he needed to know the layout.
But his prison had deprived him of his world, of the nature he had communed with once again. Inside these walls were dead and miserable. Strike needed light and life. A distant memory gave what he hoped was the answer. Or at least a temporary solution. Even as he approached the spot, he noted how a lot of the placement had changed. But that was what happened with places of power. They grew and transformed as they pleased. He knew he did.
Despite the happiness and relief that flowed into him seeing the waterfall, he refrained from expressing the emotion other than a simple, brief smile. His boots tapped only slightly along the stone base of the falls as he approached the basin, an impressive sound for the heavy army boots. Strike’s hands automatically rested into his jean’s pockets, an old habit that returned to him in full force.
Reaching the edge he stopped and stared down into the clear waters, watching the various life forms swim within. Scales glinted and shimmered in the sunlight and translucent shapes were caught by his keen eyes. It helped to know what you were looking for. He missed his world.
But his prison had deprived him of his world, of the nature he had communed with once again. Inside these walls were dead and miserable. Strike needed light and life. A distant memory gave what he hoped was the answer. Or at least a temporary solution. Even as he approached the spot, he noted how a lot of the placement had changed. But that was what happened with places of power. They grew and transformed as they pleased. He knew he did.
Despite the happiness and relief that flowed into him seeing the waterfall, he refrained from expressing the emotion other than a simple, brief smile. His boots tapped only slightly along the stone base of the falls as he approached the basin, an impressive sound for the heavy army boots. Strike’s hands automatically rested into his jean’s pockets, an old habit that returned to him in full force.
Reaching the edge he stopped and stared down into the clear waters, watching the various life forms swim within. Scales glinted and shimmered in the sunlight and translucent shapes were caught by his keen eyes. It helped to know what you were looking for. He missed his world.