He didn’t think he would ever be able to wash the scent of smoke off his skin.
It permeated everything, clinging to him like an ill rewarded shroud or worse—a hungering ghost that lurked even the deepest recesses of his dreams. One would have thought that running just past the point of sheer exhaustion would render dreams quiet, but his were vibrant, and violent. Even there the flames that had chased him licked and bit at the edges of what may have been pleasant memories.
The morning air was crisp and clean; it woke him gently and snuffed out dreams in exchange for reality. Nothing seemed out of place at first, though Skulgris couldn’t have made a guess as to where he was. There was an absence of smoke to be seen, but he was certain that it had followed him over one rise and another. His legs ached as a reminder when he rose to survey where he had collapsed, and he found no trace of the path he had been on, or a sign of where he might have been heading. But the sun had been setting then, he remembered. The fire had been just a valley over, and he dared not to think what more it had wrought.
Turning away, he set his sight on the expanse before him. This was perhaps the only thing that was right, being nestled in the hillsides between mountain ranges. Both jagged and weathered lines held no familiarity in their shapes; this was strange country to him, through and through. Stranger still was what broke up the view—the tree.
He blinked at it, not once but twice.
Of all the things he could recall, that was most certainly not it.
A hard line creased his expression and writ to stone the first of his problems: where was he? It drew his focus to what lay before him, and then around. This wasn’t a well traveled place by any means. Nothing had woke him, nothing raised the alarm instinctively to suggest he ought to be wary. Realization however had other plans for him; a disconcerting vice gripped him and as he took a few shaky steps forward, he could not shake the disorientation.
The sun in the sky wasn’t in the right place, no. Neither were the placement of the mountains. The air smelled wrong, too crisp and clear and clean—and now he was quite certain that his coat was singed though he didn’t dare check. And the tree? He had to tear his gaze away from it time and time again, it was simply too bizarre. No, there was nothing right in the world now, not that his take of the world was fully right to begin with.
Somewhere, he heard a branch snap in the woods that he had blindly gone to. He froze–pulled so jarringly from his own thoughts that they were silenced. If ever a trace of his own confusion had been there, it was long gone now. Time could have slowed for all he knew, now too invested in what may have lurked just beyond his field of view.
the staff team luvs u
It permeated everything, clinging to him like an ill rewarded shroud or worse—a hungering ghost that lurked even the deepest recesses of his dreams. One would have thought that running just past the point of sheer exhaustion would render dreams quiet, but his were vibrant, and violent. Even there the flames that had chased him licked and bit at the edges of what may have been pleasant memories.
The morning air was crisp and clean; it woke him gently and snuffed out dreams in exchange for reality. Nothing seemed out of place at first, though Skulgris couldn’t have made a guess as to where he was. There was an absence of smoke to be seen, but he was certain that it had followed him over one rise and another. His legs ached as a reminder when he rose to survey where he had collapsed, and he found no trace of the path he had been on, or a sign of where he might have been heading. But the sun had been setting then, he remembered. The fire had been just a valley over, and he dared not to think what more it had wrought.
Turning away, he set his sight on the expanse before him. This was perhaps the only thing that was right, being nestled in the hillsides between mountain ranges. Both jagged and weathered lines held no familiarity in their shapes; this was strange country to him, through and through. Stranger still was what broke up the view—the tree.
He blinked at it, not once but twice.
Of all the things he could recall, that was most certainly not it.
A hard line creased his expression and writ to stone the first of his problems: where was he? It drew his focus to what lay before him, and then around. This wasn’t a well traveled place by any means. Nothing had woke him, nothing raised the alarm instinctively to suggest he ought to be wary. Realization however had other plans for him; a disconcerting vice gripped him and as he took a few shaky steps forward, he could not shake the disorientation.
The sun in the sky wasn’t in the right place, no. Neither were the placement of the mountains. The air smelled wrong, too crisp and clear and clean—and now he was quite certain that his coat was singed though he didn’t dare check. And the tree? He had to tear his gaze away from it time and time again, it was simply too bizarre. No, there was nothing right in the world now, not that his take of the world was fully right to begin with.
Somewhere, he heard a branch snap in the woods that he had blindly gone to. He froze–pulled so jarringly from his own thoughts that they were silenced. If ever a trace of his own confusion had been there, it was long gone now. Time could have slowed for all he knew, now too invested in what may have lurked just beyond his field of view.
the staff team luvs u
