Post by Hermes on Oct 8, 2010 22:12:20 GMT -5
He supposed there was a reason his paws kept leading him to this place, warm summer breezes bringing the smell of salt and fish to his nose, the sand beneath his paws, the scraggly grass whispering soft secrets in a language he didn't understand. He supposed some day he'd realize the reason, and when he did, he'd laugh, simply because it wouldn't be the kind of reason he'd expect from himself.
It was a funny feeling, not quite knowing why one is drawn to a place, letting the feeling draw you there anyways. The crash of the waves, hissing against the shore, digging in claws of foam, resisting the pull of the ocean.
Someday, when he was nearing his final breaths, Hermes wanted to join that pull.
He sat against the darkening sky, an ink-blot in the blue-pink swirl of air and clouds far above. His lean form was leaning forward, nose pointed heavenward, breathing deeply, completely at east. The small golden and black wings on his paws fluttered idly, his wispy tail waved. Long ears, a nick marring the left one, swerved to catch small noises carried by the wind. His silky coat shifted every so often, to adjust to the breeze. Every so often, he'd lift a hind paw to scratch his nose, upon which lay a long, pinkish-gray scar.
Hermes yawned, his green eyes glowing in the fading light. A feeling of utmost serenity filled his soul, and he sighed deeply. Feelings such as this were uncommon in the world Hermes now inhabited. He was, for the moment, a loner, and serenity or peace or general happiness of any sort were hard feelings to come by. He was the kind of person that people went out of their way to avoid. He understood that being a loner was insane, he understood that, for every day he was without others, he lost a piece of himself, slowly slid into the bottomless pit of despair and desperation that ate up other loners. Once the wily heroes of every youngling's mind, loners where now looked down upon.
The world is a horrible place for someone like me, the hybrid thought with a sigh. However, such thoughts did little to affect the wondrously peaceful mood that afflicted Hermes. No disruptions, no strange creatures, no laments of the past. Just peace, silence, beauty.
Some wolf had once told Hermes that the world was only made up of words. "Loner," was only a word, "Wolfmanity" was just a word. However, "Peace" and "Justice" were only words too. Words made by wolves to make the world a little bit more... hopeful.
But words have powers, just as strong as any charm, any ability gained by the Great Spirit.
Hermes chuckled.
The Great Spirit was just a bunch of words too, wasn't it?
Yes, the world is a horrible people for such blasphemous people as me! thought he, but it is also a wonderful place as well.
And in the dimming light, Hermes sat, wagging his tail and thinking quietly, peacefully resentful thoughts about the world about him.
It was a funny feeling, not quite knowing why one is drawn to a place, letting the feeling draw you there anyways. The crash of the waves, hissing against the shore, digging in claws of foam, resisting the pull of the ocean.
Someday, when he was nearing his final breaths, Hermes wanted to join that pull.
He sat against the darkening sky, an ink-blot in the blue-pink swirl of air and clouds far above. His lean form was leaning forward, nose pointed heavenward, breathing deeply, completely at east. The small golden and black wings on his paws fluttered idly, his wispy tail waved. Long ears, a nick marring the left one, swerved to catch small noises carried by the wind. His silky coat shifted every so often, to adjust to the breeze. Every so often, he'd lift a hind paw to scratch his nose, upon which lay a long, pinkish-gray scar.
Hermes yawned, his green eyes glowing in the fading light. A feeling of utmost serenity filled his soul, and he sighed deeply. Feelings such as this were uncommon in the world Hermes now inhabited. He was, for the moment, a loner, and serenity or peace or general happiness of any sort were hard feelings to come by. He was the kind of person that people went out of their way to avoid. He understood that being a loner was insane, he understood that, for every day he was without others, he lost a piece of himself, slowly slid into the bottomless pit of despair and desperation that ate up other loners. Once the wily heroes of every youngling's mind, loners where now looked down upon.
The world is a horrible place for someone like me, the hybrid thought with a sigh. However, such thoughts did little to affect the wondrously peaceful mood that afflicted Hermes. No disruptions, no strange creatures, no laments of the past. Just peace, silence, beauty.
Some wolf had once told Hermes that the world was only made up of words. "Loner," was only a word, "Wolfmanity" was just a word. However, "Peace" and "Justice" were only words too. Words made by wolves to make the world a little bit more... hopeful.
But words have powers, just as strong as any charm, any ability gained by the Great Spirit.
Hermes chuckled.
The Great Spirit was just a bunch of words too, wasn't it?
Yes, the world is a horrible people for such blasphemous people as me! thought he, but it is also a wonderful place as well.
And in the dimming light, Hermes sat, wagging his tail and thinking quietly, peacefully resentful thoughts about the world about him.
