09-18-2023, 11:18 PM
Alabaster fur, the once soft and plush coat now a shaggy carpet draped over a rounded frame, became ruffled by the ebb and flow of a salty wind stirred as the wolf of pale began to awaken. First came the flinch of one forepaw, followed by a gingerly stretch as the roar of the coast engulfed every recess of her mind.
Stand, her brain ordered.
Hurts, her muscles retorted.
Ambrose exhaled a low whine, her snout wrinkling in distaste at the salt lingering in the back of her throat. Every fiber of her being throbbed, having been thrown about by the tides that overcame her. There was little recollection before then. A traveling pack, a lineage of fine artistry and lorekeeping, a tainted brother. Her eyes opened, if only in a squint, as she stared at the dim sky above, a light rain dotting across the ends of her discheveled fur.
These foreign lands mocked her for impeding, when she had not been offered a decision to begin with.
Slowly, the battered wolf rose to her paws. Stocky legs trembled, and her head dipped low. A growl rumbled in her throat, a self-directed cuss to get herself moving. "Lazy," she hissed. "Weak." She added.
Her head lifted, and scarlet eyes surveyed the land before her. Moss, rocks, foliage...and more moss. Great.
Ambrose inhaled, and exhaled a huff of frustration. The thought of tossing herself back into the ocean (though, this time willingly) was tempting, given the visible landscape fate had placed her in. But, nevertheless, she began her ascent from the shore. Pale paw-pads scraped against the wet moss, scrabbling at times to not slip and bruise herself in her efforts. Any attempt to inhale and taste the air yielded little success, the smell of salt dizzyingly pungent.
Perhaps, if she walked far enough, trekked long enough, she would be able to pick up the invigorating scent of snow. Of home. For now, the gentle rainfall would suffice, but only barely.
@Ennis
the staff team luvs u
Stand, her brain ordered.
Hurts, her muscles retorted.
Ambrose exhaled a low whine, her snout wrinkling in distaste at the salt lingering in the back of her throat. Every fiber of her being throbbed, having been thrown about by the tides that overcame her. There was little recollection before then. A traveling pack, a lineage of fine artistry and lorekeeping, a tainted brother. Her eyes opened, if only in a squint, as she stared at the dim sky above, a light rain dotting across the ends of her discheveled fur.
These foreign lands mocked her for impeding, when she had not been offered a decision to begin with.
Slowly, the battered wolf rose to her paws. Stocky legs trembled, and her head dipped low. A growl rumbled in her throat, a self-directed cuss to get herself moving. "Lazy," she hissed. "Weak." She added.
Her head lifted, and scarlet eyes surveyed the land before her. Moss, rocks, foliage...and more moss. Great.
Ambrose inhaled, and exhaled a huff of frustration. The thought of tossing herself back into the ocean (though, this time willingly) was tempting, given the visible landscape fate had placed her in. But, nevertheless, she began her ascent from the shore. Pale paw-pads scraped against the wet moss, scrabbling at times to not slip and bruise herself in her efforts. Any attempt to inhale and taste the air yielded little success, the smell of salt dizzyingly pungent.
Perhaps, if she walked far enough, trekked long enough, she would be able to pick up the invigorating scent of snow. Of home. For now, the gentle rainfall would suffice, but only barely.
@Ennis
the staff team luvs u