A gust of wind

[Oguur]

Seems like I just did a necro on my own thread.... But hell, it was about time I added a new story! Hope you enjoy


The air were playing around him, snaking around his body, brushing against his skin and whistling in his ears. It made his hair sway, the beads braided into it sometimes clattering lowly against eachother, their movement aided by the blue feathers among them. Leaning forward, the wind rolled the hair of his back and made it fall down beside his head, partly obscuring his view in that direction. His ear twitched slightly, the dark gem pierced throug the earlobe almost shining with a blue glow, sometimes interupted by a bright glare when the sun caught the white streaks that run through the stone just right. It was tingling slightly in his skin, as if a charge were building, but that was probably just his imagination.

The camp were far below, past his nose, past his feet. He wiggled his toes with a smile, then looked down at the ground. After some time he had figured out what some of the movements were, but most of the time, it was guesses at best. Most of the time, he didn't look at the camp even. It was easy to ignore up here. No strange scents or sounds interupting him. Just the wind blowing around him. The air whispering in his ears. He rolled his shoulders and leaned back on his palms, his legs swaying back and forth over the edge. The huge drop didn't concern him. He felt safe. In the wilds, with the wind.

He couldn't hear the beads anymore, even though he knew they still bumped into eachother. Perhaps you wouldn't really call this meditation, he didn't have much control of when it happened. It was more like if the wind decided to carry him for a while, away from himself, high into the air. The experience were thrilling and he always tried to hold onto it. Sometimes he managed for a while, but often it seemed like when he tried to focus, he fell right out of the air. It didn't feel like the air stopped supporting him, more like as if he didn't knew how to soar with it. That it had been luck getting him of the ground in the first place. While the meditations themselves didn't progress that well, those rare experiences kept him motivated. There had also been another quite unexpected benefit from trying to meditate.

Being around people had always brought a certain amount of uncomfort to him. He felt cornered, enclosed by all those talking with him and others. All the unnecessary things they made out of nature that had been just fine before they came and tried to alter it, making things, even building things to live inside. At the thought of all those small houses, their walls closing around him, a shudder caused the beads to clatter loudly against eachother again. The spell had broken. What they called civilization kept breaking things. There was much more comfort and safety to be had out in the wild.

You tried not to think about it, the meditation had taught him. Maybe you are in the middle of a camp. Maybe you people are around you. Maybe they are even talking. But pretend that they aren't. Pretend you are alone in the wilds. That the voices you hear are winds whispering in your ears. It helped. It made it easier to stand being down there. He leaned forward and looked over the edge, a gust causing his hair to briefly trash across his face. When the wyvern returned, he would fly down again. It would return, it was a honorable creature.

[Oguur]

The rushing waters crashed down on the rocks below. Hammering down against it, as the water had done against his back, spraying around the three orcs. Blood had caused a red stream to emerge in the white beaten water, flowing down from them, mixing in the river until it was completely red, dark as the blood itself. Drolets sprayed around them, painting everything red. He slipped, and the waterfall of blood pushed him under, washing him away, trapping him in the whirls. His hands and feet beat the water, causing streaks of glowing red around them as he furiouosly tried to reach the surface. Everything else had become dark, but he couldn't give up. For just a moment, the strokes of his hands lit up a face infront of him. The eyes were open, unseeing. Even the mouth was open, but no bubbles came out from it. He tried to scream, but the air rushed past his eyes, blotting out the odly angled head and the reaching hands from view. They had been washed away. He had failed them. When his air ran out, the bubbles ceased, replaced by the burning sensation of water filling his lungs. There wasn't much time before he would be gone now too. Blackness closed in on him, threatening to take over, but he felt odly calm. The air had gone up. He would follow it.

He woke up with a start, the scent of the incense still lingering around him. So did the sound of the crashing waters. It was weird that he could still hear it, the dream should have ended, but then he remembered where he was. This wasn't his usual spot, not up on one of the floating rocks. The darkness made it harder to make out, but the waterfall still crashed down on the rocks, the very same place where he had stood over Rhonya, protecting her from their crushing weight as she had mended the neck of her mate. It haden't been like in the dream. They still lived. He didn't understand. What did it mean?

[Oguur]

I looked down on the lumps in my hand. They looked so useless, just lying there, useful for nothing. My eyes closed, almost without me wanting to. Too weak. I haden't been able to help me friends. Now they were hurt, all because of me. I was still weak, useless. My hands ruined, I could barely grip something. Couldn't fight. What good did I do, just a useless mouth to feed, dragging them down. I grit my teeth in anticipation, the dull thud reaching my ears almost before the pain radiates from my hand. This wasn't what I wanted. Not only being inte the middle of a camp, but also not helping anyone. Not Sinami, nor the tribe. Another jolt of pain shoot up through the arm, accompanied by the thud of my second hand hitting the ground beside me. This din't help them either, but the pain helped to keep my mind of it. But it was fading. I know there is a barrel beside me, so I lash out with my fist against it, hoping the hard wood make the pain last longer then the ashes of the ground.

Just as I'm about to lift my hand from the barrel and strike it again, I realise that something was different. The wood is vibrating slightly below my bandaged fist. With some hessitation I raise my hand, and hit the barrel beside me. The pain shoot up from the hand again, but it's not what I focus on. It's the sound. As I hit it the third time, I don't notice the pain. My hand tingles as the palm lie agains the vibrating wood, and I can almost feel the air around me responding. A smile creep onto my face before I open my eyes. That had felt good.
With some effort I lift over the empty barrel and place it between my legs. I close my eyes and leans back agains the crate, pulling up my legs. The barrel feel a bit unsteady, so I tilt it against my knee, placing my other leg below it to stop it from falling down. Holding it in place, I start to test what kind of sounds I can make with it.