+- Ruins of Wildwood (https://relic-lore.net)
+-- Forum: Library (https://relic-lore.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=23)
+--- Forum: Game Archives (https://relic-lore.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=26)
+---- Forum: Incompleted Relic Lore (https://relic-lore.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=22)
+---- Thread: Wild Rye Fields Settle Our Bones Like Wood (/showthread.php?tid=16920)
Settle Our Bones Like Wood - Drestig - Feb 21, 2018
[dohtml]
He was more mobile now, allowed to move about a bit as long as he was careful not to rest too much weight on the leg. It was still sore, even more so now that the frost had really kicked in, and he grudgingly obeyed the medic’s instructions, walking no further than to the creek for a drink, and making sure to rest halfway. Never had he felt so old as now, having to stop after only a few steps to catch his breath, sitting back heavily. Still there was no news of Silva, despite the rest of the pack having scoured every inch of their surroundings, and with every day getting colder and darker, the father’s hopes were dwindling. He wanted so desperately to go searching for himself, to go as far as was needed this time, to bring his child home. But alas, he was stuck here, and with the pack’s numbers so low already, they didn’t have wolves to spare for a search party; Why? WHY does this keep happening? He had no answer, grunting heavily as he struggled back up, staggering the last couple of steps to the the den entrance. He’d gotten a new roommate recently. @Jessie had brought him to the infirmary without much explanation, other than he would be staying for a while. Despite all the other woes on his mind, Drestig was curious, he’d heard a lot about Ice during his time in the Bend, never thinking he would get a chance to meet the guy. But here he was, every bit as formidable as he’d been made out to be, and yet; Something isn’t quite right... Word Count: 275 Thoughts ”Speech” |
RE: Settle Our Bones Like Wood - Ice - Feb 24, 2018
[dohtml]
you do not know who is your friend
and who is your enemy
He had been in and out of his daze ever since brought to the Fields, but mostly, he was still in it. Days spent lying in the dark of the den—or outside in the sun, if he crawled out and sort of collapsed there—while he was neither truly asleep nor awake, just adrift in his own mind. At the time, it all made sense to him—his need to get home. To find someone. Someones. In every moment, it was all too real, and if it wasn't for the pitiable state of his body—and the attention of the pack, Drestig in particular—he likely would've wandered off a dozen times or more already.
He was just burning with the need to get home, and in the throes of his sickness, he just couldn't parse the fact that he didn't know where to go, or what was so important, who had died, and what he had to say. He just knew that it was important and he had to go and he just, didn't understand the rest.
But on that particular day, in that particular moment, when his silver eyes slipped open to the dark of the infirmary, they were clearer than usual. He still coughed badly, and his fever still ran high, but for the time being, his mind was his own—or at least, it was going to be. He felt sluggish and lethargic, but fairly sure that if he was just allowed to stay there for a moment and think, he'd remember where he was, and why...
A shadow blocked the den's entrance, blocking out the light. It was a wolf, sort of crouched there, and Ice peered at it with a sense of foreboding and confusion. Part of him said that he knew who it was, but it was hard to make out the scents in here, and he couldn't quite remember having seen him before. "Are you Death?" Ice inquired, his voice dry and grating from disuse and mucus. "Cause if you are, I'm not coming with you. You can go back home. Sorry."