by milo. » Mon Jun 26, 2017 4:48 am
name:
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how do they feel about the ocean?
the ocean has always been a fascination to Orsen. since he was a Viscling, he would sit on the beach
for hours just watching the waves roll and crash. the power from the churning waters thicken the air
he breathes, and he is drawn in more and more as the days pass him by. the island he lives on is small,
so if he were to take a couple days trip around the island, every single side of his home is surrounded
by this powerful force and though it's rather calming and all he's ever known... his yearning to conquer
the unpredictable currents is far greater than anything else he's ever felt. yes, the ocean is powerful.
Orsen will harness this power one day, and he will use it to his own benefit.
extras;
he wakes hesitantly, drifting in and out of consciousness and only vaguely aware of the bodies that have
begun to surround him. the hushed chatter is muffled with water clogged ears, and the silhouetted figures
gathering next to him are blurry - out of focus. Orsen drifts off one last time before he finally wakes for
good, head shaking and jaws parting eagerly for the water that's offered to him. he gulps it down, near
gasping for air when the bowl is pulled away and he can finally assess his situation.
when he sits up, he's astounded to see others like himself-- he wasn't naive, he knew there had to be others
out there off his island, but he'd never seen anyone but his own clan. it was exciting, but a tad but overwhelming
as well considering the situation. he'd lost everyone and everything he'd ever known. he supposed...
everything would be new and overwhelming now. it takes a moment for him to notice their positions-- each
Viscet in the den is bowing their head, ears pulled back and eyes cast downward in respect. Orsen would
laugh if he had the voice for it. he attempts to sit up further, brows creasing and tail tip flicking in confusion.
"Oirbsen, Keeper of the Otherworld. we welcome you to the Northern Xristien Clan."
"who?"
the one holding the bowl of water smiles brightly, stepping forward when addressed and finally lifting her head.
"i know you've had quite the journey, Oirbsen. i can't imagine how your journey here must have been! we
all felt it." her eyes are so filled with concern and admiration, Orsen can't help but tilt his head to smile a
little. she was treating him like some sort of God. in all their eyes, he truly was. "we felt the rumbling
of the dirt beneath our paws, and we watched the waves grow larger and crash along the rocks. it was a
beautiful sight, my Lord, but seeing you in the midst of our clan is even more so."
Orsen's smile curls into a sly smirk. he could get used to this.
***
Orsen remembers a time where he was ridiculed and belittled for his obsession with the sea. he remembered
a time when his clan would try to intervene-- try to make him give up on all this foolish nonsense of adventure
and focus on what was most important: home. well, to the large male, the ocean was his home. he
would shout about it until he was blue in the face. the sea was the air he breathed and the blood in his veins.
the false Deity gazes down from his makeshift "throne", at the Northern Xristien clan below as they tell stories
to one another. the most popular among the youngsters was the day their Keeper Oirbsen came to them. it's a
tale of glory. a tale of wonder and adventure and ... Orsen remembers it very differently to the tales that are
told around the glen.
he remembers the screams of his clan as his home island is swallowed up by the sea. he remembers how he
and his crew just barely made it onto his ship-- the one he'd been building since he was a child. the one
everyone gave him grief about and now it was going to save his life. Orsen remembers how none of them had
ever left the island before... they were utterly lost as to what needed to be done in order to voyage over
seas. no food... no water. nothing but each other, and the heat of the blinding sun and the vast expanse of
blue, blue, blue... he also remembers how mad they all grew.
he vaguely remembers talking to himself, pacing the deck, stepping over the bodies of his former crew
members and shouting at whatever Gods would hear him. cursing them. screaming in agony over the loss
of everything he ever knew. yet he also remembers waking on the beach, surrounded by those who already
cared for him. loved him without prompt. they believed he was worth something, and worth something
he was. though a false life he would lead from then on, for years, he was finally worth something
and that alone kept him going.
until the sea began to call for him again, under his given name.
"Keeper Oirbsen?" a small voice calls up to the rocks where he's lounging, tail tip wiggling in excitement as
the Viscling gazes up at him. "will you tell us a story about your adventures?"
he's about to shake his head when he sees two more younglings join the first. the male puffs some air from
his cheeks, rolling his eyes though in a playful manner. he's taken on this aloof persona as Oirbsen - he's cool.
popular. everything he'd always wanted to be. he replies with a playfully clipped; "ah, well. i guess so."
before stretching his legs and toes out, and hopping from the rocks to the grass below. "now, what do you all
want to hear?"
one of the pups bounces around, excited chirps escaping as he asks about the time he sailed across all seven
seas just to deliver the important souls of a royal army. Orsen reaches out a paw to stop his bouncing before
settling them all down and shutting his eyes. he tilts his head back, nose pressed to the wind to catch the familiar
ocean scent. in moments like these... where he has to play the part, he truly believes he is the Keeper Oirbsen.
so he tells the story without falter. carefully spun lies caressing
impressionable minds, and he loves the attention it brings.
Last edited by
milo. on Sun Jul 09, 2017 2:16 pm, edited 8 times in total.
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fleabag & resident alien own my whole life
