Rainforest Cliffs
S A O I R S E
At some point Saoirse had finally veered off on his own, escaping the careful eyes of his fellow Helovians, for the appraising glances of the shadows lurking at every turn and corner. The boy was trading the defeating sense of loneliness and betrayal for fear instead. While it was just as exhausting, both mentally and physically, it at least distracted the boy from the searing abandonment of his mother. But even as the boy navigated the forest floors – one step at a time, careful not to trip over the roots or vines – the thoughts of his mother with another family burned in his gut.
It ate at his mind, and eventually borrowed deep enough that the fear had swelled with its emergence. Embracing him with the dizzying thoughts that he would never be good enough. No matter how he tried to reason with himself, the colt could not shake off the thought of having no worth to his only living family member. It wasn’t as if he’d already been hollowed out by the long-term experience of living on his own at such a young and ripe age. It was happening now – still excavating the emotional attachments he hadn’t quite discovered himself, trembling in the wake of destruction. Perhaps the rift had some part in it too. It had taken something from him at least, as with every breath he expelled he filled the air with a sickly, red vapor. It was completely odorless, but it reminded him of the event, of the feelings the shades had invoked in him. And perhaps they’d left a fragment of their ill wills inside, marking him in some way.
Saoirse fought through the forest, beginning to tire of the thick foliage – the vines that wrestled with his wings and body. A layer of sweat covered the colt as he breathed at a steady rate. Eyes set aflame by their incessant war with him. He had not forgotten about the potential dangers lurking with each footstep. And with the lack of space to lift off from, he understood quite well that he would be at the mercy of the forest’s natural predators. It was the only thing spurning him forward. Pushing him to his limit, hoping that maybe – there would be a familiar sky to set off from.
When he finally breached the forest’s clutches, he was immediately dismayed by the neon sky. While the ocean lay below the dangerous cliff sides, the sickly world around him engulfed any hope of normality. Saoirse’s weary gaze rested on the horizon, finding no other significant landmarks to focus on. Where was he to go?
He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to think. Warm wafts of air bellowed out from the ocean, offering brief moments of reprieve. The colt lowered his head, so that the wind might comb through his damp locks, and brush across his pale body.
With it carried the memories of ash, the smell of scorched flesh accompanied by the plume of neon green.
@Valdís
ooc:: FIRST POST FOR Valdís PLEASE
