Common
Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.
Posted on August 10, 2023 at 11:59:56 AM by nike
 i am made of memories |
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It was days like these that Nike regretted sticking with Ruth, traipsing after her between the islands and the mainland, heeding her every call. And now, even after he’d bested her, still she refused to leave his favoured spot in the Falls, when she knew he just wanted to be alone. Why were they haunting the stretch of land between the Peak and the Lagoon? Torn between both - forever children of two worlds. Ruth wasn’t ready to return to the Peak, and Nike… Despite everything, Nike wasn’t ready to leave her. They were waiting… Waiting for what, the greyling didn’t know. Ruth said they were waiting for what was lost to come back to them, but the young stallion didn’t have faith like she did. He felt so lost, even in the long winter nights when they stood tucked alongside one another for warmth, and Ruth’s steady breathing settled his anxious heart. So here he was, venturing farther south than he had in a long time, skirting the boundary line of the Commons, stealing a glance back over his shoulder - north, to the Falls where Ruth ruminated, and the silhouette of the mountain that his mother had belonged to towering beyond the trees. The air didn’t have the same icy bite as it had yesterday, but the start of winter likely encouraged most to stay at home. And for those like him, who didn’t have such a thing, most were wise enough to seek out more sheltered areas. But Nike, unlike his sister, had never professed to claim any measure of wisdom. What he cherished above all else were what little memories he had. Faded, secondhand ones of his mother. A precious few of his own, of time spent with his father. It was these that drew him south, into the Commons proper. He wouldn’t linger there long, just skirt the northern border of the Lagoon, in the vain hope that there might be a faint, familiar scent somewhere in the treeline, and then he’d return to the Falls, wash the musky marsh scent from his pale hide, and go slinking back to his solemn sister. |