Titus tightened the rope. The two friends acknowledged one another with a nod, Titus turned and headed for the four battling the mast and rigging. Taking hold and passing it to Gram they both helped to control the wild sails.
I met William when I was still Rihanon (half-French, half-Scottish). I didn't have to go under the name Morran, meaning “great one.” I always got a sense that I wanted to be there for him. He was wild-eyed and wild-haired. He seemed to need someone to calm him down from this warlike wild zeal he’d get in his eyes, like he was daring danger to take him further. He wanted to test his danger limits. I think he wondered if he had any.
The rain, like razors, slicing away at the skin on his cheeks. Gram Granitebeard clung on for his life by the side of Captain Yamas, Captain of the Dwarven cargo ship Stones Breath. The vessel was set upon all sides by a storm that had been predicted, but all warnings ignored in the pursuit of silver.
Tired, cold, hungry, in pain. My feet have torn through my shoes and have cuts and sores from hitting the tuff road. These once clean fitting clothes have turned into rags that are shedding off my body. From the time I started this journey; my smooth, young skin has become ruff, grey and cold. My once long and soft chestnut hair has knotted up into a grey nest. My feminine features have sagged and loosened. My once fit and peaceful body has tired and become incredibly painful to live in. This journey for purity and everlasting youth has taken my youth from me. Years spent on this road searching and waiting to taste from the desired fountain. Years wasted growing old on a road that has no end. Being a naive child, I believed the village tale of the winding road that lead to the silk water that when sipped by a selfless soul, gave them eternal youth.
The entity isn't surrounding the boy, as the boy has pushed him and myself away. I get sick of my fallen status and the entity approaches donning their fiery wings.
When an angel falls, it's one of the worst things in the world. Picture an island that had an abundance of life to it that now lays barren; even that wouldn't come close to explaining how it feels to be a fallen angel. When you fall from the sky, the other angels watch, and some mock, laugh, and others cry. The heavens open and expel their tears for you.
There's a prophecy that tells of a sacrifice, for the sins of their father's, one of Hades children to spend eternity emotionally alone. (Without a soul.)
I sat there on the mountain with my eyes closed, just taking in the smells traveling to me along the wind. I could smell the spring flowers that were starting to perfume the air. I could smell the scent of the incoming rain. But mostly I could smell him. His scent was unique to him. It was a smell that both, drew me in and made me want to flee. The thought of him being near made my stomach flip flop for many reasons. He was the most gorgeous man in the valley. Hell, possibly the whole damn territory. He was also the most powerful and beloved Alpha in the west side of the country.
“Thanks to that little scene we’re about 10 minutes behind. It’s lucky that classes haven’t ended yet. I just hope the door is still open…”