Post by Cheese on Sept 22, 2013 19:18:26 GMT -5
Thnk.
The heavy axe flew through the log, biting into the stump upon which it was placed. Daray reached for another, put it upon the stump, and raised his axe once more.
Thnk.
It was the only sound for miles - save for the saccharine singing of the birds the the rushing of an adjacent stream. A modest cabin made from timber served as the foreground of the scene. The scent of a hog roasting on a spit wafted from the nearby fire pit.
The man, now in his early 30s (at least in appearance), rested his axe against the stump and wandered to the porch. He sat upon a rocking chair and reached for the glass of bourbon that rested by his feet. He tipped back the glass until it was empty and stared vacantly into thick foliage from behind a pair of round spectacles.
"One year," he mused to himself, absently twisting his perfectly waxed handlebar mustache and placing the crystal glass between his feet. Today marked the one-year anniversary of his new beginning: the rebirth of his mortality.
So much had changed. His appearance, to begin with, had grown thicker. Despite the loss of supernatural power and strength, the year of living in the wild had forced his body into a condition of fitness that was still impressive by any mortal standard. He had done away with his long, raven-black tendrils of hair, opting for something close to his head and much more manageable. It was intermittently streaked with slight gray. A year ago, his garb would have most likely been decadent and lavish, but he presently wore a sweat-stained tee - suspenders held up his fitted canvas trousers and he elected to be barefoot this evening.
Life was much, much, much simpler than it was a year ago. Laevaetion had returned to school, and Daray maintained the home, cooked dinner, and occasionally went to town to sell a share of his hunt. It was modest, quiet, and everything Daray could have possibly wanted.
It was almost 5 pm - that meant Laevaetion was to return from classes soon. He sat upon the porch with a happy sigh, contentedly awaiting her return like a Labrador.
The heavy axe flew through the log, biting into the stump upon which it was placed. Daray reached for another, put it upon the stump, and raised his axe once more.
Thnk.
It was the only sound for miles - save for the saccharine singing of the birds the the rushing of an adjacent stream. A modest cabin made from timber served as the foreground of the scene. The scent of a hog roasting on a spit wafted from the nearby fire pit.
The man, now in his early 30s (at least in appearance), rested his axe against the stump and wandered to the porch. He sat upon a rocking chair and reached for the glass of bourbon that rested by his feet. He tipped back the glass until it was empty and stared vacantly into thick foliage from behind a pair of round spectacles.
"One year," he mused to himself, absently twisting his perfectly waxed handlebar mustache and placing the crystal glass between his feet. Today marked the one-year anniversary of his new beginning: the rebirth of his mortality.
So much had changed. His appearance, to begin with, had grown thicker. Despite the loss of supernatural power and strength, the year of living in the wild had forced his body into a condition of fitness that was still impressive by any mortal standard. He had done away with his long, raven-black tendrils of hair, opting for something close to his head and much more manageable. It was intermittently streaked with slight gray. A year ago, his garb would have most likely been decadent and lavish, but he presently wore a sweat-stained tee - suspenders held up his fitted canvas trousers and he elected to be barefoot this evening.
Life was much, much, much simpler than it was a year ago. Laevaetion had returned to school, and Daray maintained the home, cooked dinner, and occasionally went to town to sell a share of his hunt. It was modest, quiet, and everything Daray could have possibly wanted.
It was almost 5 pm - that meant Laevaetion was to return from classes soon. He sat upon the porch with a happy sigh, contentedly awaiting her return like a Labrador.