|.7th Autumn, 514
Tiredness tugged at the corner of Zhol's eyes, and fatigue plagued his muscles as he trudged through the weaving maze of subterranean tunnels. Since coming to Wind Reach, sleep had not come easily to the young man from Endrykas, but these last weeks it had been worse than ever. He missed the sound of the canvas and breeze more with every passing day; missed the soothing sound of rain to lull him to sleep; he missed the occasional braying of striders, the snorts and snores of his family. He was not ungrateful for his new life here, and for all the Inarta had done to welcome him; but that didn't stop him missing home.
The change in seasons was what had done it; or at least, that was what he suspected, and hoped. He had been restless, expecting the city to up and move; but it had not, and for reasons he couldn't fathom that frustrated him to no end. Every day, the walls of Wind Reach's tunnels and caves felt closer, closing in around him; even thinking about it made the breaths begin to catch in his lungs, each effort struggling to draw in enough air to sustain him. He stumbled, a hand catching hold of a wall just in time to arrest his descent towards the ground. He wheezed, summoning all the willpower he could to wrestle more air into his lungs. A vague numbness began to prickle at his skin, and eat away at the corners of his vision. He slumped his body against the wall; slid to the floor; hugged his arm around his knees, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to wrestle his body under control.
The onslaught eased, marginally, and the urgent, anxious distress faded into a more sorrowful cascade of emotions. He let his breathing slow, but each breath still felt insufficient, as if someone had cursed his lungs to decrease in size.
He let his head loll to one side, staring down the tunnel in the direction of his destination. Someone had recommended the Dreaming Lady: somewhere to explore his dreams, and maybe find some clarity on the mysteries that were plaguing him. It sounded preposterous; but then so had the idea of oozing res from his skin and transforming it into fire, before he'd seen it with his own eyes and done it with his own hands for the first time. But what hope was there for him if he didn't even have the strength and force of will to even make it to the door?
Mustering what energy he could from his addled limbs, he forced himself to his feet, still a little unsteady, still relying on the wall to hold him up. "What is this?" he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to take a step forward, and then another. "What is this new route to failure that you have found?"
The change in seasons was what had done it; or at least, that was what he suspected, and hoped. He had been restless, expecting the city to up and move; but it had not, and for reasons he couldn't fathom that frustrated him to no end. Every day, the walls of Wind Reach's tunnels and caves felt closer, closing in around him; even thinking about it made the breaths begin to catch in his lungs, each effort struggling to draw in enough air to sustain him. He stumbled, a hand catching hold of a wall just in time to arrest his descent towards the ground. He wheezed, summoning all the willpower he could to wrestle more air into his lungs. A vague numbness began to prickle at his skin, and eat away at the corners of his vision. He slumped his body against the wall; slid to the floor; hugged his arm around his knees, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to wrestle his body under control.
The onslaught eased, marginally, and the urgent, anxious distress faded into a more sorrowful cascade of emotions. He let his breathing slow, but each breath still felt insufficient, as if someone had cursed his lungs to decrease in size.
He let his head loll to one side, staring down the tunnel in the direction of his destination. Someone had recommended the Dreaming Lady: somewhere to explore his dreams, and maybe find some clarity on the mysteries that were plaguing him. It sounded preposterous; but then so had the idea of oozing res from his skin and transforming it into fire, before he'd seen it with his own eyes and done it with his own hands for the first time. But what hope was there for him if he didn't even have the strength and force of will to even make it to the door?
Mustering what energy he could from his addled limbs, he forced himself to his feet, still a little unsteady, still relying on the wall to hold him up. "What is this?" he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to take a step forward, and then another. "What is this new route to failure that you have found?"
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari"
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.
This template was made by Khara. She was bribed with coffee and jammy dodgers.