Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2017 19:27:57 GMT -6
The soul of sweet delight can never be defiled
She was in her element.
Well, not really. But close.
Lids parted to reveal the sight of sienna eyes afire with youthful energy and anticipation, and therein, dark pupils touched upon a distanced marvel: the Kinath. Jagged, snow-capped peaks voraciously clawed upon the heavens with a seemingly insatiable appetite for the cloak of blue overhead; it was a living, breathing land which Ceara knew well. Having befriended the Oriens in youth, she grew to know it like the back of her paw, and even the most dangerous lands became child's play for the adventurous youngster. The spell of age had come and gone for Ceara, and while puphood did not remain, her intrepid and free-spirited nature did. Thus, the mountains would have no feast on that day; no, that day was her's. No more was the Kinath her home - Ceara could only look upon the land with a pang of saudade, for the lands had since been claimed, yet it was not worth deep concern of the wolf, a most jubilant and carefree little mongrel. To be in a pack was to be a boulder, a solid and fortified being, yet unmoving. Contrary, Ceara was like a rolling pebble: small, on the move, and probably a tad bit clumsy as she barreled through the sands of Kaer Beach.
Maw parted in a wide and wolfish grin, after skidding to a stop Ceara briefly reared, body heaving back as she stood upon her two hind legs to better view the beach before her. Paws dangling in the air, bumbling and clawing for balance, Ceara was granted a mere few seconds of the enhanced sight, and in those few seconds she did revel: Lively eyes flitted across her range of view, taking in the blanket of pale sands beneath her, and, a stark contrast, a piercing blue sky. The inlands were opposite to the surf, where saline waters gently lapped where the land met the ocean; a cordial greeting to say the very least, she did suppose. And as earth met the water, the Kaer's greeting had been just as cordial to Ceara. Losing balance, it seemed to Ceara that the time for sight-seeing and dilly-dallying was over, and the moment her forepaws saw the ground once more, the enchanted wolf broke into a sprint.
Like a cotton ball on stilts - rather, toothpicks - the petite wolf clumsily bounded across the sands, giddy with joy as her grin stood strong. Behind her, grains flew as fast as sparrows as she traversed, eager to delve into what these lands had to offer. Ceara was plenty entertained by the racing thoughts that occurred to her, picking and choosing carefully, considering the potential of this new playground, panting amidst her speech as she ran, "First, I'll go fishing! Then deep-sea diving! Oh, what about-" with a gasp and suddenly widened eyes, with the coming of what she thought to be the perfect-est pinnacle of all ideas eeever, Ceara knew exactly what to do: "Sand castles!"
Indeed, the sands were reminiscent of the Kinath's snows, merely lacking the delightfully light structure, whiteness, and distinct crunch. Still, they were close enough akin, malleable and soft. Upon finding the perfect spot for Ceara's potential little kingdom, she came into a trot before halting and briefly pondering its setup. Smacking her paw into the sand excitedly, Ceara barked "my royal pool here," moving her paw, leaving a sandy trail to an adjacent spot she continued "my most fancy sleeping chamber here, since I'm the queen, after all," and next to the sleeping chamber, speaking as she envisioned adjoining rooms, "and who could forget the banquet table, with all the fattest venison steaks, exotic zebra dishes and squirrel platters you could eat!" She was salivating already - and by you, Ceara of course meant herself. All the fattest venison steaks, exotic zebra dishes, and squirrel platters that she could eat. Ah, yes. The stuff dreams were made of. "Of course, the first order of business is protection. I demand a moat for this fair kingdom."
She held no respect for a namby-pamby moat, and thus, dug with no refrain. Sand flying and paws rapid, her torso sunk deeper and deeper into the hole as she had continuously dug. Eventually, reaching a depth of perhaps 3 to 4 feet as a starting point of her moat, she managed to heave herself by scrambling up and off the ridges of the hole. Sitting briefly with a wide and pleased smirk, eyes briefly closed and holding herself with pride, she admired her work. On the other hand, maybe she took it overboard, yet digging was still instinctive for the canine, and who doesn't love a good hole now and then?
Breaking her from a daze of adoration was a scream - a seagull seemed to be antagonizing the little wolf, seemingly nothing new among the ornithurae. Circling overhead and diving menacingly, yet bluffing, wings spread wide, tips dipped in black, Ceara wasted no time turning tail, offended by his intrusion. For what was minutes felt like hours as the pesky avian chased, Ceara zig-zagging and running in all directions. Blindly, tripping on her feet, her body's movements came to a sudden stop yet she was not still as she was thrust with momentum straight into the hole head-first. With a final cackling from the sea gull, he continued to scrounge the beach absently further down the beach, though Ceara was actually quite entertained. Feeling as if she were a worm in the sand, Ceara enjoyed the fair fit of the sandy sleeve. Her torso and saws stuck, snug in the hole, Ceara giggled and yipped mindlessly, though having acknowledged she had been stuck, she made some effort. Pushing with her back legs, with a wiggle of the rump and accompanying fluffy tail as she strained, the little cream-coated wolf tried to heave herself out of the warm, sandy grip. She couldn't lie , of course she loved her moat, but she couldn't do any renovations if she were stuck in this hole. Plus, she could probably make a little snack of that goddamned gull.
Well, not really. But close.
Lids parted to reveal the sight of sienna eyes afire with youthful energy and anticipation, and therein, dark pupils touched upon a distanced marvel: the Kinath. Jagged, snow-capped peaks voraciously clawed upon the heavens with a seemingly insatiable appetite for the cloak of blue overhead; it was a living, breathing land which Ceara knew well. Having befriended the Oriens in youth, she grew to know it like the back of her paw, and even the most dangerous lands became child's play for the adventurous youngster. The spell of age had come and gone for Ceara, and while puphood did not remain, her intrepid and free-spirited nature did. Thus, the mountains would have no feast on that day; no, that day was her's. No more was the Kinath her home - Ceara could only look upon the land with a pang of saudade, for the lands had since been claimed, yet it was not worth deep concern of the wolf, a most jubilant and carefree little mongrel. To be in a pack was to be a boulder, a solid and fortified being, yet unmoving. Contrary, Ceara was like a rolling pebble: small, on the move, and probably a tad bit clumsy as she barreled through the sands of Kaer Beach.
Maw parted in a wide and wolfish grin, after skidding to a stop Ceara briefly reared, body heaving back as she stood upon her two hind legs to better view the beach before her. Paws dangling in the air, bumbling and clawing for balance, Ceara was granted a mere few seconds of the enhanced sight, and in those few seconds she did revel: Lively eyes flitted across her range of view, taking in the blanket of pale sands beneath her, and, a stark contrast, a piercing blue sky. The inlands were opposite to the surf, where saline waters gently lapped where the land met the ocean; a cordial greeting to say the very least, she did suppose. And as earth met the water, the Kaer's greeting had been just as cordial to Ceara. Losing balance, it seemed to Ceara that the time for sight-seeing and dilly-dallying was over, and the moment her forepaws saw the ground once more, the enchanted wolf broke into a sprint.
Like a cotton ball on stilts - rather, toothpicks - the petite wolf clumsily bounded across the sands, giddy with joy as her grin stood strong. Behind her, grains flew as fast as sparrows as she traversed, eager to delve into what these lands had to offer. Ceara was plenty entertained by the racing thoughts that occurred to her, picking and choosing carefully, considering the potential of this new playground, panting amidst her speech as she ran, "First, I'll go fishing! Then deep-sea diving! Oh, what about-" with a gasp and suddenly widened eyes, with the coming of what she thought to be the perfect-est pinnacle of all ideas eeever, Ceara knew exactly what to do: "Sand castles!"
Indeed, the sands were reminiscent of the Kinath's snows, merely lacking the delightfully light structure, whiteness, and distinct crunch. Still, they were close enough akin, malleable and soft. Upon finding the perfect spot for Ceara's potential little kingdom, she came into a trot before halting and briefly pondering its setup. Smacking her paw into the sand excitedly, Ceara barked "my royal pool here," moving her paw, leaving a sandy trail to an adjacent spot she continued "my most fancy sleeping chamber here, since I'm the queen, after all," and next to the sleeping chamber, speaking as she envisioned adjoining rooms, "and who could forget the banquet table, with all the fattest venison steaks, exotic zebra dishes and squirrel platters you could eat!" She was salivating already - and by you, Ceara of course meant herself. All the fattest venison steaks, exotic zebra dishes, and squirrel platters that she could eat. Ah, yes. The stuff dreams were made of. "Of course, the first order of business is protection. I demand a moat for this fair kingdom."
She held no respect for a namby-pamby moat, and thus, dug with no refrain. Sand flying and paws rapid, her torso sunk deeper and deeper into the hole as she had continuously dug. Eventually, reaching a depth of perhaps 3 to 4 feet as a starting point of her moat, she managed to heave herself by scrambling up and off the ridges of the hole. Sitting briefly with a wide and pleased smirk, eyes briefly closed and holding herself with pride, she admired her work. On the other hand, maybe she took it overboard, yet digging was still instinctive for the canine, and who doesn't love a good hole now and then?
Breaking her from a daze of adoration was a scream - a seagull seemed to be antagonizing the little wolf, seemingly nothing new among the ornithurae. Circling overhead and diving menacingly, yet bluffing, wings spread wide, tips dipped in black, Ceara wasted no time turning tail, offended by his intrusion. For what was minutes felt like hours as the pesky avian chased, Ceara zig-zagging and running in all directions. Blindly, tripping on her feet, her body's movements came to a sudden stop yet she was not still as she was thrust with momentum straight into the hole head-first. With a final cackling from the sea gull, he continued to scrounge the beach absently further down the beach, though Ceara was actually quite entertained. Feeling as if she were a worm in the sand, Ceara enjoyed the fair fit of the sandy sleeve. Her torso and saws stuck, snug in the hole, Ceara giggled and yipped mindlessly, though having acknowledged she had been stuck, she made some effort. Pushing with her back legs, with a wiggle of the rump and accompanying fluffy tail as she strained, the little cream-coated wolf tried to heave herself out of the warm, sandy grip. She couldn't lie , of course she loved her moat, but she couldn't do any renovations if she were stuck in this hole. Plus, she could probably make a little snack of that goddamned gull.
Valkyrie 
93 | 
