Post by Deleted on Aug 4, 2015 23:11:44 GMT -5
Under the constant and incessant nagging of his darker half, Samson had left Ina’mos, finally – bidding no farewell to his mother or baby sister, or anyone else. The voice that pressed him on had come rather suddenly one morning, a sharp and ethereal voice thrumming between his temples, barking orders and condemning him when he chose to simply ignore it. But the creature did not relent, speaking furiously as he slept and in all of his waking moments, utter the same damn words again and again.
SWIM. SWIM. SWIM. The words repeated, over and over, had served little meaning to Samson at first, helping only to interrupt his sleep. But as each of his siblings eventually made the journey to begin the Agoge, Othrys and Olympus included, he begun to formulate the voice’s intentions. It wanted him to leave Ina’mos.
SWIM. SWIM. SWIM. Eventually, his disregard for the unfriendly creature in his head began to reprimand his indifference with scalding headaches, and graciously, when the pain grew too heavy for his neck, Samson succumbed, and waded out from the western shore of his Island home, snarling all the while about his heavy disdain for his mind’s intruder.
When he emerged on Vor’asa, greeted by its pleasant heat and endless dunes, the voice stopped almost immediately. Groaning in childish satisfaction, Samson collapsed on the damp sand and rolled idiotically onto his back, legs splayed in satisfaction at the sheer silence – aside from the gentle lapping of the sea and the shrill call of seabirds. The voice had ceased, leaving only relief, and blessed rest – finally, after days of endless inner ranting, the albino brute could sleep. And sleep he did, for the better part of the afternoon was spent basking on the small slip of beach, as this was likely the only moment of reprieve he would have for months. He would return from the Agoge a battle-hardened warrior, discarding his boyish self to step into a far more terrifying skin – but for now, the future was just some damned ugly delirium that he didn’t care to strain himself over.
When sunset came, it wasn’t the darkening of the sky that awoke Samson, but a sharp touch on his foreleg. Unmoving, his eye opening blearily, a single ruby slit on his pale face, as he stared at the offending seabird who apparently thought him dead enough to approach. It squawked nonsensically, pecking his leg again to test the readiness of his flesh, and as it curiously pulled at the thin skin, Samson’s enormous head reared up with an irritated growl – snapping his teeth and catching the bird haphazardly by its outstretched wing in the moment it attempted to take flight. The white bird frenzied in his mouth in a bid to escape, its free wing flailing in distress as its entire body thrashed in his face, claws and beak and all.
“Shtop… fuggin’…. flappin!” Samson growled heatedly, his voice muffled by the thrashing body in his mouth, before he lowered the creature to the ground and held it down with a single giant paw – in one swift motion, he pulled upwards, detaching its fragile wing and casting it aside with a spit of feathers. The bird screeched wildly in pain as its bloodied body stumbled aimlessly on the sand, and with a comical roll of his eyes, Samson turned around and sat down on it, planting his rump firmly on the noisy cretin.
“Kiss my ass, feather-fucker,” he chuckled, his tail wagging in shameless amusement at the short-lived demise of his new friend.
Tagged: @lilith
SWIM. SWIM. SWIM. The words repeated, over and over, had served little meaning to Samson at first, helping only to interrupt his sleep. But as each of his siblings eventually made the journey to begin the Agoge, Othrys and Olympus included, he begun to formulate the voice’s intentions. It wanted him to leave Ina’mos.
SWIM. SWIM. SWIM. Eventually, his disregard for the unfriendly creature in his head began to reprimand his indifference with scalding headaches, and graciously, when the pain grew too heavy for his neck, Samson succumbed, and waded out from the western shore of his Island home, snarling all the while about his heavy disdain for his mind’s intruder.
When he emerged on Vor’asa, greeted by its pleasant heat and endless dunes, the voice stopped almost immediately. Groaning in childish satisfaction, Samson collapsed on the damp sand and rolled idiotically onto his back, legs splayed in satisfaction at the sheer silence – aside from the gentle lapping of the sea and the shrill call of seabirds. The voice had ceased, leaving only relief, and blessed rest – finally, after days of endless inner ranting, the albino brute could sleep. And sleep he did, for the better part of the afternoon was spent basking on the small slip of beach, as this was likely the only moment of reprieve he would have for months. He would return from the Agoge a battle-hardened warrior, discarding his boyish self to step into a far more terrifying skin – but for now, the future was just some damned ugly delirium that he didn’t care to strain himself over.
When sunset came, it wasn’t the darkening of the sky that awoke Samson, but a sharp touch on his foreleg. Unmoving, his eye opening blearily, a single ruby slit on his pale face, as he stared at the offending seabird who apparently thought him dead enough to approach. It squawked nonsensically, pecking his leg again to test the readiness of his flesh, and as it curiously pulled at the thin skin, Samson’s enormous head reared up with an irritated growl – snapping his teeth and catching the bird haphazardly by its outstretched wing in the moment it attempted to take flight. The white bird frenzied in his mouth in a bid to escape, its free wing flailing in distress as its entire body thrashed in his face, claws and beak and all.
“Shtop… fuggin’…. flappin!” Samson growled heatedly, his voice muffled by the thrashing body in his mouth, before he lowered the creature to the ground and held it down with a single giant paw – in one swift motion, he pulled upwards, detaching its fragile wing and casting it aside with a spit of feathers. The bird screeched wildly in pain as its bloodied body stumbled aimlessly on the sand, and with a comical roll of his eyes, Samson turned around and sat down on it, planting his rump firmly on the noisy cretin.
“Kiss my ass, feather-fucker,” he chuckled, his tail wagging in shameless amusement at the short-lived demise of his new friend.
Tagged: @lilith