Albatross
Pet Name: Albatross
Owner: Apache
Theme / Type: Oceanic Stignightus
Born: October 11, 2010
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Reason
MisticPal Age: 4389 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 5 / 5
Strength: 3
Defense: 3
Speed: 4
Intellect: 8
Misticpower: 8
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
It is incredible, our place in the universe. To be precariously positioned in a way that fosters life, to be self-aware, to be anything that we are is so fantastic that I am continuously rendered speechless with awe.
To the planets, we are microscopic. But to ants, we are mountains. Perspective is an infinite thing. And so are all the things around us, depending on how you look at it.
Our current states may be temporary, but even our bodies will live on, matter to be used by the world as it sees fit. And further still we will become the very things that have fostered our own existence. Eventually we will be sown back to stardust.
I am not so sure if the me that I think I am will live on, but I am fine with that idea. I do not think I ever want to live forever.
As long as the parts of me that were make their way to the lofty heavens that are the stars, I will be content.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Oh, there not much to say about me really. Except that I am rather good at navigating. Oh! And chess! And I am studying philosophy at the moment. Ah, what's that? I see, yes, something more interesting... well I suppose I am rather handy with a sword, if you like. Though I fail to see how that's more interesting than philosophy."
ID No. 20M
Albatross; "a type of web-footed seabird with narrow wings and a hooked beak"
formal || charming || scholarly || temperate
"The Navigator"
Albatross is a scholar through and through. He loves any literature he can get his hands on and is especially intrigued by science. He tends to be very grounded and disbelieving of anything he can't witness with his own eyes. He is not interested in fantasies or misguided attempts at defining reality.
Albatross is a skilled navigator. He has an internal compass, meaning he always knows which direction he is facing, and he is a reader of the stars. He can easily discern his position in the world by the ever-present map in the night sky. He is also gifted with a particularly amazing photographic memory.
He himself is not a very aggressive fellow, though he tends to be quite easily offended. He considers himself cultured in the sense that he has read about and extensively studied other cultures. He has a particular affinity for the finer things in life, especially in regards to the many textures of wine.
He believes that tradition, law, and formality should always be observed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What is in the ocean?
The darkest depths do not reveal
and so much is unknown to any who
walk in daylight.
Even those that brave the frontier
still come back unknowing
for the dark is great and vast
and even those with adventure on their heels
may not find anything worth finding.
For the ocean is great and vast and black
and old things fall in shadows,
undisturbed and hidden.
-----------~-~-~----------~~-~-~-~~----------~-~-~-----------
Albatross stood, dragging lightly on his dark cherry pipe. He leaned against the edge of the ship. But it wasn't just any ship. It was his ship.
He exhaled. The smoke from his pipe was languid in the air, barely dragged off by the gentle, hot breeze. It wasn't a great day for sailing, but he didn't care. His mood could not be crushed. He'd spent the better part of the day humming and joking with his crew as he went about his work. He even had felt merry enough to spare a couple of deck hands their work, testing the ropes of the shipping crates, making sure of their steadfastness. Normally he would not partake of that kind of mundane hard-work, you know, to keep up appearances, but today was different. Everything seemed particularly vibrant, particularly interesting. He couldn't shake his ecstasy.
The weather helped. No clouds, a soft heat. He was reminded of how at home he was, and not just on any ship, his ship. He loved it out here on the ocean. He had never been happier anywhere else.
They were still a week out from port, but seagulls called above and circled the air lazily. They were passing a small chain of islands that could barely be called islands, really. All manner of ocean-birds made those rocky outcroppings their homes.
He took another long drag of his pipe, sinking into himself with relaxation.
Ahh, it would be a lovely day to go for a swim...
He was entertaining the idea more than he ought. They weren't moving fast, but they weren't moving slow either.
Just as he decided he might find a work-around, perhaps go down in their rowboat with a tether, he smelled something unusual. Roasting meat.
"Oh, but it's only noon?" he said to himself. Much to early to be preparing the evening meals. He strained his ears, and hearing nothing prepared to go below deck and investigate.
The ship rose over a swell as he took a step, but he was sea-hardy and his steps did not falter. He did not stumble.
The day was slow and hot. A seagull cried out, one long, high sound.
And suddenly, "FIRE! FIRE BELOW!"
Albatross flinched visibly. "How?!" he yelled out, and ran, not waiting for an answer. Everyone was running to their stations and doing as they ought.
I'm sure we can put it out before too much damage is done. By the gods, I hope so!
He took one last, quick step, before the deck erupted in fire beneath his feet.
The fire had reached the gunpowder.
---
His breath was ragged and wretched and tasted of bitter ash. He lay in the bottom of a small boat, rocking harshly in the rapid swells of the ocean.
He cracked an eye open, and was horrified by what he saw.
"My ship... my ship..." he tried to say, but all he could do was cough. His lungs ached terrible.
His ship was laid out on the ocean, wreckage spilling into the great void. It rose on end, and titled harshly, before it sunk completely, never to sail again.
"I can't," he hacked, drawing as much breath as he could, "my legs--" and he began to shake, a vicious a deep fear welling up in his chest.
"I can't feel my legs."
~
Albatross belongs to Apache.
Boxed Oceanic on 5/12/18!
[Adopted from the pound as an Arctic Stignightus]
Revelry
|