Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2014 8:31:15 GMT -5
The sky was without the sun – or so it seemed, the heavy clouds shielding Ina’mos’ shoreline from the midday light. Everything seemed darker than it should have been, a grim shadow cast across the island that was otherwise wild and overgrown, lush grasses and foliage spilling riotously from the land’s every crevice, until meeting with the emptiness of the beach, which harboured nothing but sand and wide open space. The clouds above were soundless but bated, in a state of quiet suspense; the murky sky seemed to be holding its breath, awaiting the moment where it could release and exhale a frigid downpour.
The waves, sensing the oncoming storm, were restless, lurching tumultuously back and forth against the beaten shore in yearning to claw out from the tide and be free of its rushing depths. The waves collapsed ceaselessly upon the beach, spraying and hissing with harsh unrestraint; it was hard to imagine that the ocean was anything but a living thing, the water churning with perpetual power and willingness to rebel against the wind – but alas, the ocean was not a living thing, nor did there seem to be any life teeming amidst the roaring surf, the fish too weak to exist there, and birds too fickle to remain in such calamitous weather.
There was no life there – not until a grisly shadow parted through the waves as though untouched by its thunderous force. The shape was not a swift one, nor elegant in its quest to the shoreline, but it was immense and steadfast, with mighty limbs seizing forward through the rolling water, before its enormous paws found traction against the sandy bed. The freezing tide fought with him, unwilling to part with the beast so soon – but the monolithic creature emerged from the crashing sea, like a steel-pelted leviathan rising from the icy surface, his gaze ominous and glassy. The water that clung to him was heavy, but his heart was unendingly heavier. Goliath’s legs were drenched pillars quaking from their exertion and his gait landed cumbersomely, paws sinking deeper and deeper into the waterlogged sand as he pulled himself from the waves’ yielding grip, and he stood in defiance, the remaining seawater cascading from his sodden coat and gradually freeing him of its salty weight.
Despite the coldness of the air, the bite of the swelling wind, and the remnants of icy water congesting his undercoat, Goliath did not shiver. An eerie warmth spread through him at the sight of the familiar shore, his stoic countenance almost betrayed by an imperceptible softening of his stare.
Since his father’s departure from the world, this island knew no other beast as great and formidable – until now. The mighty son of Belial had returned to to claim his throne as its guardian and keeper. Ina’mos was once again safe, a haven for himself and his reunited family; no longer was it a silent and unremembered grave decaying from sorrow.
But astoundingly, as Goliath strode along the shore, sorrow was the last thing on his mind – remembrance filled him, and with it came the release of his anger. Youthful rage had fuelled him until this moment, and being unchained from it allowed a calm rush of wind-beaten air to swell in his lungs. In his short life he had been too ripe for wisdom, an agitator and aggressor in darkest form. His will was as bold as brass and strong as iron, but sensibility was a thing never before contemplated by the irresponsible menace – but on this day he claimed his birthright and shed what remained of his youth, becoming what was he was brought into the world to be. A creature wrought from power and purpose.
From rogue to alpha in a mere day – the weight of such a feat was a monument in itself, but nothing compared to the monument that he would become.
Righteousness was unshakeable in his great stride as it drew him farther from the sea, leaving behind the streaked sand and the solemn cry of the waves. His paws knew their path without faltering, for this land he knew better than the landscapes of his many minds. Where his thoughts were mad and uprooted, fluctuating faster than the wind, this land was in a constant state of familiarity. He knew the home of every shrub and tree, the place of every rock, where the land naturally sloped, the intimate call of the waterfall ahead – nothing brought him greater satisfaction than being in that one place where everything was entirely known, and more importantly, his. Their legacy would continue from now, from this instant, because he would make it so. Even the unseen beasts watching from their ethereal perch in the sky would not be able to tear down his conviction. He was their absolute equal. He was his own god.
This island had been wasted on false dreams and ludicrous hope, a tribute to his father's folly, but it was now laid bare before him. This barren canvas, once spoiled by blood and defeat, was blank and willing to be shaped into a vision of his own greatness. The past no longer lingered here. The demons that had chased him as a mere pup from his home were gone, vanquished by time, leaving behind nothing more than the promise of peace in their absence. This was the hell that he had left behind, and everywhere he looked he found a memory of something unspoiled – a hell no more.
This was no mere paradise. It was the loneliest paradise he had ever seen… and it was beautiful.
The waves, sensing the oncoming storm, were restless, lurching tumultuously back and forth against the beaten shore in yearning to claw out from the tide and be free of its rushing depths. The waves collapsed ceaselessly upon the beach, spraying and hissing with harsh unrestraint; it was hard to imagine that the ocean was anything but a living thing, the water churning with perpetual power and willingness to rebel against the wind – but alas, the ocean was not a living thing, nor did there seem to be any life teeming amidst the roaring surf, the fish too weak to exist there, and birds too fickle to remain in such calamitous weather.
There was no life there – not until a grisly shadow parted through the waves as though untouched by its thunderous force. The shape was not a swift one, nor elegant in its quest to the shoreline, but it was immense and steadfast, with mighty limbs seizing forward through the rolling water, before its enormous paws found traction against the sandy bed. The freezing tide fought with him, unwilling to part with the beast so soon – but the monolithic creature emerged from the crashing sea, like a steel-pelted leviathan rising from the icy surface, his gaze ominous and glassy. The water that clung to him was heavy, but his heart was unendingly heavier. Goliath’s legs were drenched pillars quaking from their exertion and his gait landed cumbersomely, paws sinking deeper and deeper into the waterlogged sand as he pulled himself from the waves’ yielding grip, and he stood in defiance, the remaining seawater cascading from his sodden coat and gradually freeing him of its salty weight.
Despite the coldness of the air, the bite of the swelling wind, and the remnants of icy water congesting his undercoat, Goliath did not shiver. An eerie warmth spread through him at the sight of the familiar shore, his stoic countenance almost betrayed by an imperceptible softening of his stare.
Since his father’s departure from the world, this island knew no other beast as great and formidable – until now. The mighty son of Belial had returned to to claim his throne as its guardian and keeper. Ina’mos was once again safe, a haven for himself and his reunited family; no longer was it a silent and unremembered grave decaying from sorrow.
But astoundingly, as Goliath strode along the shore, sorrow was the last thing on his mind – remembrance filled him, and with it came the release of his anger. Youthful rage had fuelled him until this moment, and being unchained from it allowed a calm rush of wind-beaten air to swell in his lungs. In his short life he had been too ripe for wisdom, an agitator and aggressor in darkest form. His will was as bold as brass and strong as iron, but sensibility was a thing never before contemplated by the irresponsible menace – but on this day he claimed his birthright and shed what remained of his youth, becoming what was he was brought into the world to be. A creature wrought from power and purpose.
From rogue to alpha in a mere day – the weight of such a feat was a monument in itself, but nothing compared to the monument that he would become.
Righteousness was unshakeable in his great stride as it drew him farther from the sea, leaving behind the streaked sand and the solemn cry of the waves. His paws knew their path without faltering, for this land he knew better than the landscapes of his many minds. Where his thoughts were mad and uprooted, fluctuating faster than the wind, this land was in a constant state of familiarity. He knew the home of every shrub and tree, the place of every rock, where the land naturally sloped, the intimate call of the waterfall ahead – nothing brought him greater satisfaction than being in that one place where everything was entirely known, and more importantly, his. Their legacy would continue from now, from this instant, because he would make it so. Even the unseen beasts watching from their ethereal perch in the sky would not be able to tear down his conviction. He was their absolute equal. He was his own god.
This island had been wasted on false dreams and ludicrous hope, a tribute to his father's folly, but it was now laid bare before him. This barren canvas, once spoiled by blood and defeat, was blank and willing to be shaped into a vision of his own greatness. The past no longer lingered here. The demons that had chased him as a mere pup from his home were gone, vanquished by time, leaving behind nothing more than the promise of peace in their absence. This was the hell that he had left behind, and everywhere he looked he found a memory of something unspoiled – a hell no more.
This was no mere paradise. It was the loneliest paradise he had ever seen… and it was beautiful.