three two one count it down
swim or drown
Watching the youngsters flit up and down the beach made Atlas' heart squeeze. His youth had been stolen by a pedagogue of opulence and classism, leaving nothing but the pungent memory of bodies on gold-paved streets and red blood streaming from his mother's nose.
His motion along the beach trailed to a halt as his eyes took in a lavishly crafted sandcastle; his vision glazed over a bit and he was transported back to heaving chests on damask marble and cracks in the gilded pillars holding up the palace his family called home.
He had fled without even knowing if his father was alive, or any of his brothers. His wives, his nephews, all cast aside like grains of sand in this very beach. His eyes narrowed and his chest filled with a bitter self-loathing; he left Zukai for a chance at selfless living, to shed his aureate exterior and be the standard bronze underneath. But nothing in this world was ever forgiven, not truly.
A couple ran chortling into the bracing surf and distracted him from his dark thoughts. As they retreated up the beach, giggling and nipping at each other, Atlas shook the stray drops of spray from his face and sighed. Though the self-apathy was a helpful tool for personal immolation, it did little for true reflection, and Nashira would kick his ass if she could see him wasting a beautiful day wallowing in the mire of his own misery.
He decided to kick the monkey off his back when he looked up and saw a young stranger with a monkey, quite literally, clinging to his back. The poor creature looked rather frightened. They clambered over their companion, struggling to keep a particular satchel from falling in the water.
In a land of purples and greens, the winged and the horned, it was refreshing to see a relatively plain colored individual, much like Atlas himself. The youth was wading further offshore, seeming to enjoy the freshness of the water. A chance glance brought Atlas' gaze level with the stranger's, and with a friendly smile and a curious air, the young lad started walking towards him.
The visitor announced a greeting with a gravelly crack to it indicating his youth. Atlas felt a familiar, squeezing pang in his chest for adolescence lost; but his return smile was genuine, and he dipped his head in greeting, ears shifted forward. "Hello, friend," he said, voice a deeper, even timbre, the harshness of his Zukai accent long since faded. "Come to enjoy this lovely celebration? It's a beautiful day for it."
His motion along the beach trailed to a halt as his eyes took in a lavishly crafted sandcastle; his vision glazed over a bit and he was transported back to heaving chests on damask marble and cracks in the gilded pillars holding up the palace his family called home.
He had fled without even knowing if his father was alive, or any of his brothers. His wives, his nephews, all cast aside like grains of sand in this very beach. His eyes narrowed and his chest filled with a bitter self-loathing; he left Zukai for a chance at selfless living, to shed his aureate exterior and be the standard bronze underneath. But nothing in this world was ever forgiven, not truly.
A couple ran chortling into the bracing surf and distracted him from his dark thoughts. As they retreated up the beach, giggling and nipping at each other, Atlas shook the stray drops of spray from his face and sighed. Though the self-apathy was a helpful tool for personal immolation, it did little for true reflection, and Nashira would kick his ass if she could see him wasting a beautiful day wallowing in the mire of his own misery.
He decided to kick the monkey off his back when he looked up and saw a young stranger with a monkey, quite literally, clinging to his back. The poor creature looked rather frightened. They clambered over their companion, struggling to keep a particular satchel from falling in the water.
In a land of purples and greens, the winged and the horned, it was refreshing to see a relatively plain colored individual, much like Atlas himself. The youth was wading further offshore, seeming to enjoy the freshness of the water. A chance glance brought Atlas' gaze level with the stranger's, and with a friendly smile and a curious air, the young lad started walking towards him.
The visitor announced a greeting with a gravelly crack to it indicating his youth. Atlas felt a familiar, squeezing pang in his chest for adolescence lost; but his return smile was genuine, and he dipped his head in greeting, ears shifted forward. "Hello, friend," he said, voice a deeper, even timbre, the harshness of his Zukai accent long since faded. "Come to enjoy this lovely celebration? It's a beautiful day for it."
SPEECH ! @Kibou ! did someone say a father figure
