He had never seen the ocean before. At least, not as a mortal.
It was incredible. The moment he stepped over the last of the crags and the azure expanse came into view, he felt his breath taken away. It was so blue, in every possible shade, from a shallow aquamarine to a rich indigo, broken by dark forms of coral reefs. The rushing wind brought the smell of brine, like that of crushed leaves and fish mixed with the tang of salt. The sky was falling to grey, passing from a cheerful blue to a stormier silver as the winds came and went, threatening a storm but never truly brave enough to unleash their might. The ocean's waters broke into towering, white-rimmed waves the closer they came to shore, finally breaking in a tumbling rage upon the worn crags and abandoned corals that lined the sandbar.
He felt himself smile. He closed his eyes against the breeze, letting the very feeling of the wind against his skin take over his very being. The brief sensation was enough to send shivers down his spine. Having had his fill, he moved onwards, cautiously stepping across the rocky cliffs. Here, their elegance became a threat - they became uneven and unpredictable, and the wind threatened to tip Kaladin off his feet should he step in the wrong direction. He strode cautiously on, unfazed by the dangers, eyes rooted to the mesmerizing meadow of rippling water, beckoning to him like a promise.
He found a thin, treacherous path cut in the cliff-face, and stepped cautiously downwards, admiring the determination of whatever mortal had taken the time to chisel this river of stonework into the unforgiving crags. As he walked, he thought that if he had still been a god, and he had a relic to drop to the earth, he might have dropped it here. Indeed, he had never felt so close to his past divinity before.
He was not alone, however. As he found his way down to the short sandbar, he sighted two silhouettes in the distance, standing quite near the reaching waters. He squinted against the wind, but his mortal eyes were much too weak to recognize the strangers from here. He approached with caution, staying as hidden as he could, his flank pressed to the surrounding crags as he took in the two men upon the sea banks.
They were brutes made of war, their limbs and girths thick, their voices a deep timbre on the wind. One was mousy grey, his face bristling with a trifecta of lethal horns. The other was not quite as remarkable, but his roaned ebony hide was familiar to Kaladin. It was the man called Reichenbach. He'd given the man his respect, Kaladin recalled, if not his friendship. The older equine had held the gravitas of experience and a weatherworn sort of joy that balanced on the edge of melancholy. Now he smiled at his companion's antics, watching him enter into the waves, splashing about, his rowdy laughter carrying on the wind. He then turned and approached Reichenbach. Their words were lost to Kaladin's weak hearing, but he could tell their witty banter to be lighthearted and honest, hinting at some ancient friendship between the two men.
A pang of jealousy snapped in him, twanging like a breaking lute string.
He wanted to be like them, he realized. His heart ached for that shared camaraderie, for laughter and jest and easy familiarity. But how? How did they do it? Where did they find this lighthearted goodness, this ease of existence? He could only watch, desperate to learn from the older men. He felt his heart might be shrinking and withering, like skin left under water too long. He could never be like them. For who could love a broken, useless sack of mortal flesh, who did not truly comprehend his own existence? He would feign confidence before his peers, but in truth he knew only how to be divine - and he had not done well at that, either.
Standing upon a smaller stone, mane swept aside by the wind and amberglass eyes rendered blue by the ocean's hue, he looked a forlorn landmark, lost in the ocean breeze, ready to be swept away by the many foaming mouths of the ocean. He wondered, briefly, if he should turn and leave - simply acknowledge his loss and abandon hope. And yet, curiosity drove him froward - he would not be abandoning these lands quite yet.
He edged his way anxiously down to the waters, close to the two men but not near enough to exude familiarity. He did his best to ignore the pain and loneliness he felt, unable to approach the strangers - instead, he turned his efforts to the briny waves that lapped, time and time again, almost brushing against his hooves. He took a breath, inquiring of the ocean's feel but also weary of it. Finally, he stepped forward, close enough to be within reach, and -
SPLASH! the water struck against his front legs, and he reared back in alarm at the frigid touch. He stumbled away, laughing and shrieking at once. He turned, seeking anyone to share his mirth with, before realizing how foolish, how childish he must look. He quickly quelled his outburst, eyeing the two men standing close by. "H-how...how did you do it?" the question was directed meekly at the horned roan, who he'd seen enter the waters moments before. Goddamit, man, you were a god! Get yourself together. he growled at himself. "The water is freezing." finally gaining composure, he tipped his head and smirked, feeling more himself now that the water had nearly shocked the wits out of him. "Also, I think you give the women of Solterra far too much credit."
@Reichenbach @Rostislav this is terrible heCK
It was incredible. The moment he stepped over the last of the crags and the azure expanse came into view, he felt his breath taken away. It was so blue, in every possible shade, from a shallow aquamarine to a rich indigo, broken by dark forms of coral reefs. The rushing wind brought the smell of brine, like that of crushed leaves and fish mixed with the tang of salt. The sky was falling to grey, passing from a cheerful blue to a stormier silver as the winds came and went, threatening a storm but never truly brave enough to unleash their might. The ocean's waters broke into towering, white-rimmed waves the closer they came to shore, finally breaking in a tumbling rage upon the worn crags and abandoned corals that lined the sandbar.
He felt himself smile. He closed his eyes against the breeze, letting the very feeling of the wind against his skin take over his very being. The brief sensation was enough to send shivers down his spine. Having had his fill, he moved onwards, cautiously stepping across the rocky cliffs. Here, their elegance became a threat - they became uneven and unpredictable, and the wind threatened to tip Kaladin off his feet should he step in the wrong direction. He strode cautiously on, unfazed by the dangers, eyes rooted to the mesmerizing meadow of rippling water, beckoning to him like a promise.
He found a thin, treacherous path cut in the cliff-face, and stepped cautiously downwards, admiring the determination of whatever mortal had taken the time to chisel this river of stonework into the unforgiving crags. As he walked, he thought that if he had still been a god, and he had a relic to drop to the earth, he might have dropped it here. Indeed, he had never felt so close to his past divinity before.
He was not alone, however. As he found his way down to the short sandbar, he sighted two silhouettes in the distance, standing quite near the reaching waters. He squinted against the wind, but his mortal eyes were much too weak to recognize the strangers from here. He approached with caution, staying as hidden as he could, his flank pressed to the surrounding crags as he took in the two men upon the sea banks.
They were brutes made of war, their limbs and girths thick, their voices a deep timbre on the wind. One was mousy grey, his face bristling with a trifecta of lethal horns. The other was not quite as remarkable, but his roaned ebony hide was familiar to Kaladin. It was the man called Reichenbach. He'd given the man his respect, Kaladin recalled, if not his friendship. The older equine had held the gravitas of experience and a weatherworn sort of joy that balanced on the edge of melancholy. Now he smiled at his companion's antics, watching him enter into the waves, splashing about, his rowdy laughter carrying on the wind. He then turned and approached Reichenbach. Their words were lost to Kaladin's weak hearing, but he could tell their witty banter to be lighthearted and honest, hinting at some ancient friendship between the two men.
A pang of jealousy snapped in him, twanging like a breaking lute string.
He wanted to be like them, he realized. His heart ached for that shared camaraderie, for laughter and jest and easy familiarity. But how? How did they do it? Where did they find this lighthearted goodness, this ease of existence? He could only watch, desperate to learn from the older men. He felt his heart might be shrinking and withering, like skin left under water too long. He could never be like them. For who could love a broken, useless sack of mortal flesh, who did not truly comprehend his own existence? He would feign confidence before his peers, but in truth he knew only how to be divine - and he had not done well at that, either.
Standing upon a smaller stone, mane swept aside by the wind and amberglass eyes rendered blue by the ocean's hue, he looked a forlorn landmark, lost in the ocean breeze, ready to be swept away by the many foaming mouths of the ocean. He wondered, briefly, if he should turn and leave - simply acknowledge his loss and abandon hope. And yet, curiosity drove him froward - he would not be abandoning these lands quite yet.
He edged his way anxiously down to the waters, close to the two men but not near enough to exude familiarity. He did his best to ignore the pain and loneliness he felt, unable to approach the strangers - instead, he turned his efforts to the briny waves that lapped, time and time again, almost brushing against his hooves. He took a breath, inquiring of the ocean's feel but also weary of it. Finally, he stepped forward, close enough to be within reach, and -
SPLASH! the water struck against his front legs, and he reared back in alarm at the frigid touch. He stumbled away, laughing and shrieking at once. He turned, seeking anyone to share his mirth with, before realizing how foolish, how childish he must look. He quickly quelled his outburst, eyeing the two men standing close by. "H-how...how did you do it?" the question was directed meekly at the horned roan, who he'd seen enter the waters moments before. Goddamit, man, you were a god! Get yourself together. he growled at himself. "The water is freezing." finally gaining composure, he tipped his head and smirked, feeling more himself now that the water had nearly shocked the wits out of him. "Also, I think you give the women of Solterra far too much credit."
@Reichenbach @Rostislav this is terrible heCK
