Username: edelvermell
Name: Spirit of Earth ; alternatively Tapio
Gender: male || they/them pronouns
How did you escape?:
( 500/500 )
Escape is a dull thought in the back of one's mind when pale blue eyes lock with that of unnatural yellow; he wiggles and worms himself in thorny vines and thistles, muted pains prick his shoulders and haunches, and such a pain stills him into a submission. Deep breaths, Hyacinthus stutters words in his mind, in normal circumstances he can not fathom speaking, and he does not know what the stress of the moment will do to his words-- his thoughts are muddled, a mess, soaked sweetly with fear and resentment; he hates the land, the thorns, the vines, and to be trapped is to destroy the ocean. He squirms again, finds the silence of the stranger ( beyond their question; Tell me, stranger, why should I let you go? ) as both concerning and likable; so far he has never met a Kalon who stands still and silent like he, and finds the company may have been present without the thorns biting into his body, pinpricks of red blooming over blue.
Hyacinthus' breath comes in quick, sputtered bursts, and he wonders how long the two can do this gazing stand off. Silence is their song, their words, behind that the symphony of synced breath. Neither will speak, to ruin something so beautiful as silence, nor give the satisfaction of being forced into words by a question or lack of response.
Vines tighten, thorns dig deeper into his flesh, Hyacinthus' breath hitches in his throat, his body squirms as the vines tighten and only serve to tighten them more; his mind is stilled however, long since forgotten the sting and the wetness of his own fur.
There is no reason for this stranger to free him. He trespasses, does he not? He is an invader-- and intruder into the beloved silence of this strangers forest, and he feels like a monster for it. He knows, understands the sentiment, the moment one had dipped their hands into the ocean to pull him on an adventure he had felt broken-- invaded and violated. He doubts the stranger doesn't feel the same, and slowly he finds himself shaking his head.
"There is no reason." His voice is soft, lost on the tongue, just above a whisper. The kalon's ears twitch, and Hyacinthus chooses this moment to close his eyes; to imagine the home he will loose as he is consumed by vines-- much like a snake squeezes and swallows its prey. He wants to cry, to know he will never see the ocean again, but the vines slacken and the pinpricks of thorns and brambles are gone. Slowly blue eyes open, looking about with confusion. Clear by the knit of his brow that he does not understand why he is free-- why he was not destroyed for his invasion.
"Come with me." The words are quick off Hyacinthus' tongue, shakily rising from the heap of exhaustion and fear he was on the ground. He takes a step towards the strange kalon. "Please come with me."
Name: Spirit of Earth ; alternatively Tapio
Gender: male || they/them pronouns
How did you escape?:
( 500/500 )
Escape is a dull thought in the back of one's mind when pale blue eyes lock with that of unnatural yellow; he wiggles and worms himself in thorny vines and thistles, muted pains prick his shoulders and haunches, and such a pain stills him into a submission. Deep breaths, Hyacinthus stutters words in his mind, in normal circumstances he can not fathom speaking, and he does not know what the stress of the moment will do to his words-- his thoughts are muddled, a mess, soaked sweetly with fear and resentment; he hates the land, the thorns, the vines, and to be trapped is to destroy the ocean. He squirms again, finds the silence of the stranger ( beyond their question; Tell me, stranger, why should I let you go? ) as both concerning and likable; so far he has never met a Kalon who stands still and silent like he, and finds the company may have been present without the thorns biting into his body, pinpricks of red blooming over blue.
Hyacinthus' breath comes in quick, sputtered bursts, and he wonders how long the two can do this gazing stand off. Silence is their song, their words, behind that the symphony of synced breath. Neither will speak, to ruin something so beautiful as silence, nor give the satisfaction of being forced into words by a question or lack of response.
Vines tighten, thorns dig deeper into his flesh, Hyacinthus' breath hitches in his throat, his body squirms as the vines tighten and only serve to tighten them more; his mind is stilled however, long since forgotten the sting and the wetness of his own fur.
There is no reason for this stranger to free him. He trespasses, does he not? He is an invader-- and intruder into the beloved silence of this strangers forest, and he feels like a monster for it. He knows, understands the sentiment, the moment one had dipped their hands into the ocean to pull him on an adventure he had felt broken-- invaded and violated. He doubts the stranger doesn't feel the same, and slowly he finds himself shaking his head.
"There is no reason." His voice is soft, lost on the tongue, just above a whisper. The kalon's ears twitch, and Hyacinthus chooses this moment to close his eyes; to imagine the home he will loose as he is consumed by vines-- much like a snake squeezes and swallows its prey. He wants to cry, to know he will never see the ocean again, but the vines slacken and the pinpricks of thorns and brambles are gone. Slowly blue eyes open, looking about with confusion. Clear by the knit of his brow that he does not understand why he is free-- why he was not destroyed for his invasion.
"Come with me." The words are quick off Hyacinthus' tongue, shakily rising from the heap of exhaustion and fear he was on the ground. He takes a step towards the strange kalon. "Please come with me."
