my fate (p)
Mar 2, 2015 0:05:15 GMT -5
Post by spook on Mar 2, 2015 0:05:15 GMT -5
Vandraren loved the ocean by night. He loved it fiercely enough that it almost brought tears to his eyes—embattled with memory and the simple relish he derived from being at the beach, the Bouvier stood still on the shore for a long moment. The wind tousled his fur, still carrying the algid bite of late winter and early spring, but he hardly registered it. His eyes fixed on the water, dark beneath the combing fingers of the wind, the magnificent array of stars spangling the rippling surface. Being by the water this silent time of night made him ruminative in a way he very rarely was.
Firmly a man of action rather than a man of contemplation, Vandr was nonetheless no less prone to the sting of memory than any other dog. But he was also ultimately a buffoon, and his silence broke as he threw his head back and released a joyous series of deep barks. The sound fell bluntly across the shore, echoing from the cliff faces lining the beach, and Vandraren launched himself forward. He met the familiar resistance of the sand against his purchase, but eventually his stride lurched outward, his pace lumbering and powerful, not graceful in the least.
He hit the water with a boisterous laugh, a sound that was loud and unrestrained and happy. The water crashed away from his paws—he displaced a fair amount as he submerged in one great flop, seawater raising up to envelop him. It smashed down upon him and he laughed as much as he coughed through the saline deluge. An able swimmer, he splashed his forelegs in the water before the temperature finally registered through the thick mats in his coat.
His laugh choked a little—his only thought on the matter of going to swim in the ocean had been that spring had arrived. He hadn’t considered that spring had recently arrived, that the water would still carry the impenetrable chill of winter. If his movements had been cumbersome before, now they were outright ridiculous—he flailed as he extracted himself from the water, gasping as the air hit him. Vandr galloped onto the sand and promptly threw himself down, probably appearing as though in the clutches of some kind of fit—he rolled onto his back and thrashed around, letting the friction warm him somewhat.
Bird is the word
IF STARS SHOW IT,
GAZE NOT ON THE SKIES
BUT STUDY THE ASTROLOGY
THE ASTROLOGY OF HER EYES