Kevta never wanted to remember that day he woke to find his entire world in ruin. It was something he’d pushed so far back in his mind he sometimes forgot his own origins. It was all that kept him sane in his new life, that and the love of his new companions. But now, now it seemed stripped from him again.
Purple, it was one of the last things he could recall. A purple stranger. What a lovely robe they wore, noble and exotic. He’d have liked to touch it, to gush over its bearer and ask a million questions. But in an instant they slipped from his sight.
Slowly his meeting with this stranger crawled out of his foggy memories: the surprise of being found by another wanderer at dusk when few others would be out, the silent greeting of a low bow that both flustered and flattered the old warrior. He’d stood up then, turning his back on the ruin he’d been digging at. It was only a few steps before the ground began to shift. It felt like nothing, he treated it like nothing, and suddenly he was swallowed up too quick to even call out his surprise.
Everything had gone dark. It still was.
There was no telling how long he’d been buried in the sand and worse, he knew he’d gone dormant. He’d have had to, it was like a reflex, and in this waking state he could feel it, his stiffened, weak body and mind. Drawing on the power stored in his cloth was almost painful. He didn’t feel rested or re-energized. He felt like hell. But the state of his physical being was of little concern. There was a mental agony he was trying desperately to subdue before the panic consumed him completely.
Kevta’s thoughts lingered on the faces of those he’d grown close to, of unfinished business and promises unfulfilled. He was almost afraid to dig himself out. What if everything was gone again? The grief and utter devastation he’d felt the first time, he’d hardly kept his sanity. He knew he couldn’t handle that again.
He cursed the ancestors, his own masters. He’d never have had to deal with painful matters like this if it weren’t for them. This was all their fault. All of it.
|: Bastards. They just won’t let it end. I know they linger. I’ll find them. :|
A jolt rocked his body and rippled through the sands around him as red filled his vision, flickering like a dying flame.
|: Rip the glyphs from their chests. :|
[10:02:12 PM] Shanza the mole: WELL YOU’RE ALL OVER EACH OTHER LIKE SIMBA AND NALA OVER THERE
[10:02:30 PM] Shanza the mole: seemed apropriate
[10:02:31 PM] Atka: …does that make me nala.
[10:02:36 PM] Shanza the mole: what
[10:02:37 PM] Shanza the mole: does your
[10:02:39 PM] Shanza the mole: heart tell you
(~(FInally got access to a computer and got NOTHING productive done.)~)
(~(Expecting a new computer within the week. Keep fingers crossed!)~)
Torramh of the Chirpettes: keepin’ them in line by threatening to feed them to a shark, almost as bad as tossing them to a guardian!
Shanza the baby chick: Only now Kevta is scurred too I assume
Ponc’Etoile loves Big Band: … why did i just get the stupidest idea
((omg what the heck did I miss xD))
Have you ever let someone be on top, or do they have to earn it?
May I lick jam off your nether regions?
/looks down and shuffles the tiny points that serve for feet/ Just... a stressful week. May I steal a moment of your time?