Re: An Angel's Aria
I'll be using Jhans. It's really a pleasure to work with so many established people and Sweet Simplicity, who I've been meaning to get for a while, but never got round to.
So anyway...
(Ic)
It was, by general consensus, too early in the morning for this kind of thing.
Jhans tore down the mountainside -- gripped in a desperate, insane desire to survive that makes you grin wide like a maniac. He had been dozing in the midday heat, idly glancing up at the mountain's peak when part of it buffeted outwards. It looked like it was moving so slowly all that way off, as the peak toppled, but now he knew it as moving all too fast. He slips on the rocky scree of the mountainside, knowing that he couldn't stop if he wanted to. One piece of ground is indistinguishable from the next and his world is a mad, panting blur.
He slips on a slab of grey stone and rolls ungracefully, landing on his shoulderblade and feeling the force take him over thrice before he could find any footing again. Legs slipping like a mutt on smooth ice, he continues. As he gallops onwards, his shoulder clips the bark of a tree-- his forepaw tears through a clump of plant, he doesn't care or notice what kind. Behind him comes the sound of a roaring surge -- immense, consuming. The sound of rock upon rock upon rock all moving very very fast, too fast towards him...
He is presented with a three-metre cliff, which he barrels off -- landing on his side. Pain sears up it, but he gets up and limps along. His eyes flicker uncontrollably, his tongue flicks at dry lips. He isn't thinking -- every single part of his brain is concentrated on survival. He can hear the surge getting louder and louder and can feel the phantom force of tonnes of rock crushing his spine as it engulfs him, but doesn't stop to look at he hears it, too, comes over the cliff.
Glancing sidelong, he pelts to the nearest tree. His foot is peppered with shrapnel as the rocks rain down upon him, and greater slabs clip his toes as he runs. Panting mightily, he stands with his back to the wide trunk and dig his claws in, praying it will hold from the onslaught. The rocks continue to surge onwards -- coming up at least a metre high around the side of the tree, larger slabs jarring his spine and aching side as they bash into his shelter. Jhans feels his hold weakening -- the tree being uprooted be the sheer force of the wave, and he digs his feet in and holds it back, fighting to keep his back straight, pushing and losing his footing and digging in and pushing again.
After some minutes, they stop and pass by. He holds his position long after the roaring, tinkling sound fades. It sounds so innocently curious from this side. Listening closely, only faint sliding noises can be heard all around him as the stones settle., the landscape has been leveled with rocks, stones and fine, fine dust. It fills the air, and the atmosphere tastes of dark, wet caves.
Heaving, he throws the tree aside, diving halfheartedly out of the small wave of rocks that were held up behind it. Groaning, he slings his shoulder back and lets out a small wine, rotating his limbs to relieve some of the aching tension. He's getting too old for this. Being attacked by mountains was not in the job description.
The faint tinkling sounds of stone upon stone increase, and he looks behind him to see the tree, its round trunk too high to jump -- it's length too high to avoid, rolling over the slope of the scree and moving with ever increasing speed. He watches it with sad, sad eyes until he is sure beyond doubt it isn't going to stop.
He doesn't get paid enough for this.
Last edited by awkin; 06-19-2007 at 11:42 AM.