Mar 20, 2016 21:19:36 GMT -6
Post by Rhaskos on Mar 20, 2016 21:19:36 GMT -6
He'd never really been the same as the other wolf-blood children, begot on beautiful mares that everyone coveted and grown to be important - known, famous, auspicious and favoured. Their blue skin and golden eyes were a dead giveaway, and most knew it - most had inherited Paradisum's charm and guile, his sensuous tongue and irresistible voice. Rhaskos had turned out more like his mother... honest, hardy, trustworthy, dependable... forgettable. In some ways he still felt like that sweaty fisted teenager turning up to his first fight, heart beating a racket in his broad chest while his lip bled from biting it. He'd always been a brawler, a soldier, another face in the army of descendants that Paradisum had smiled at once - then promptly forgot. Age hadn't changed that. He was still the same old Rhaskos: stoic, strong... but unsure about the world and his place in it.He knew that he was strong, had the potential to be more - knew that he was Rhaskos, a boy, nay man, made of rough coal skin and tangled black hair. He knew he had soulful burnt butter eyes, rimmed with his sire's spidery silver and black lashes and that his body was built for strength and stamina. He even knew he had been bequeathed some of Paradisum's attractions. His cheekbones were scrawled with a blunt pencil, boasting a jawline that went for miles and fine, clean legs without flaw that would carry him over these mountains for the rest of his life. Yet who was he if he had nobody to care for, to protect? What good were Paradisum's hand-me-downs when they meant nothing to anyone? A puff of air escaped his curled nostrils at the thought, aurelian eyes scanning the mountainside despite his certainty that he was alone. Rhaskos wasn't searching for a partner, for a lover, nor a friend. He wasn't looking for family, for a reason to be on the earth. His life was as incomplex, lucid and as transparent as it could be - and if anyone cared to look, they would find it laid before them as a simple, effortless lifestyle. Yet here he was, incomplete.
He had always been pulled to the mountains and the sky, unlike his other siblings, those beings made of the ocean. He liked to be thrust against the sky, standing atop those snow-capped mountains that had stood there with stony roots in the earth for years upon years. An eternity was their life. They had been there when he was born, and they would be there when he died. He felt his stocky bones like granite inside his skin, the snow like the blood rushing through him, powerful and eternal. Stone was his element, not water. Water was fluid, graceful, smooth and mouldable - Rhaskos was the stone that endured waters endless push, he was the roots under the ground that stood stable, the firmness and the security of a mountain in a world as turbulent as a storm ridden ocean.
She arrived in a mess of bones and wind, almost graceful but not quite. Rhaskos watched her, golden eyes both curious and nonchalant - he couldn't imagine anyone would want to be here for company. There was a familiarity about her that turned his eye, made him want to keep watching. She seemed brutal, like a shipwreck, a rockfall, an avalanche. He said nothing, just watched through soulful eyes, a stark figure against the granite and the snow. A low whicker tinkered through his lips - let her decide how she wants to respond to that he thought simply, never moving, as insurmountable and unmovable as the mountain they stood upon.
