Benthic
Pet Name: Benthic
Owner: Apache
Theme / Type: Oceanic Ahbruis
Born: December 9, 2008
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Acceptance
MisticPal Age: 4372 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 3 / 3
Strength: 8
Defense: 2
Speed: 1
Intellect: 3
Misticpower: 3
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
I am here, without you, lost. No direction.
I look into the muddy water, I imagine your reflection is there, lying just beyond clarity. The water is very still, no wind blows to disturb its surface. I am waiting, and after I while, I forget why.
I blow air through my teeth. This waiting does not bring me peace.
In fact, I feel quite a discord welling up in me, growing rapidly with momentum.
I will not have chaos, so instead I rise and spit in the water. Its surface is disturbed and my reflection warped.
I do not have time for dreams.
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"Great and terrible things dwell in all of us. It is up to the individual to decide what things they will sacrifice so that they may achieve greatness. And it is up to them still to decide whether that greatness will err towards the terrible or the liberating."
ID No. 9M
Benthic; "from the bottom of the sea"
refined || musing || precise || unyielding
"The Outcast"
When he was young, Benthic experienced tragedy. His greatest companion, his mate, lost his life to plague. Benthic found himself lost and wayward, hollow with grief. Spaces where once love had been, he filled with recklessness and desperation.
He found solace only in control and orderliness. He desired for his life to have no more accidents, no more corruption. He acted on this desire by attempting to riot and uproot and otherwise cause the collapse and reform of the local authority. He wanted to be in absolute control of his life, and he thought he could achieve control through means of government. He became caught up in leading, his ego grew until he had delusions of supremacy. He soon believed that this was his destiny. And though the king he fought against was corrupt, and Benthic's initial intentions pure, he found himself falling to even deeper evils than the first king.
So even though he had fire and power at the heart of his group, he was eventually overwhelmed. When he was caught, he thought he would surely be killed, but instead he was banished. He was thrown from his homeland, with the promise that should he return he will find there a quick death.
Benthic is not so ambitious now, though he retains the great intelligence and tactical attitudes of his youth. Amazingly, he still believes he is more capable than those around him, sometimes exuding an air of condescension. He follows his own personal code of conduct and will never break his word. Yet, he seeks no power now and often tends to avoid others, as he is quite bitter and embarrassed about his failing as a military leader. He is drawn to dark, lonely, and damp places.
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Wintry nights warm
at the remembrance of two hearts,
touching.
A brazen call thus bellowed,
as loud as oceans roaring,
as loud as clouds sifting through night air,
as loud as windblown tufts
set to wander aimlessly;
all whispering in hopeful, lonely sighs.
In this memory I can feel us, always both of us,
tempted, ever so,
to cross the mirror's boundary
and sow back together the threads
of love stolen, lost.
-----------~-~-~----------~~-~-~-~~----------~-~-~-----------
I can feel it in me, rising, staining my heart with a vile darkness.
I will remain unmarked. I do not waiver. I rise up to meet my demons.
It boils, curls, hisses and snakes inside me. Whatever it is, this grief and turmoil and resolute ferocity, it is close to consuming me.
But I am not overwhelmed. Eventually, it fades.
I am here again. Nowhere else.
I will not have chaos.
---
Water laps at our toes. The late, tired sun rests at the edge of the horizon. It paints the world in gold. Most beautiful is the lake, for it has been set ablaze. Little nibbles test its surface now and then. Miniature waves mar the fiery plane.
You are talking. Trying to convince me to come and swim with you. Your voice is muffled, as if from a great distance.
I see myself, watching as if I were an outsider, laugh. I am not fond of the water. I do not even enjoy getting wet. It is bad enough that my toes are wet, and now you want me to swim!
You ask me every time, and we make jokes, but I never get in. But you don't seem to mind too much. I mind more than I would say, I want to join you. But instead I watch you dance through the flickering waters, alone.
And then something disturbs the absolute peace. There is a scream, not so far off. Piercing and fearful.
Things stop making sense. There is blood in front of me, from nowhere in particular. My stomach sinks like a stone tossed underwater.
I look to you, but you are just a blur, as far off as you are. You turn, carrying the same smile that you always bear.
In my head, you turn, over and over again. No matter what I do, you never look right at me. Always past.
I blink, and I see you again, this time somewhere far different. Somewhere with too much gray, and there is no sun.
One last time, a slower blink, I take my time. I open my eyes.
But I cannot see you, no matter how hard I try.
I am at a place much colder. And much more real.
The sea opens up before me, endless.
Terrifying.
I shiver, mostly from the cold. Gray clouds roll overhead, bringing with them a wild and unyielding wind. The waves rise high on the sea before they come crashing back down.
I might have said before that the sea was an angry thing. But now, I am almost comforted. The smell of the wet and the cold and sand brings me closer to you. And you are so far away.
I am losing myself. You were an anchor, and without you I am drifting into uncharted, strange places.
The push and pull of the rushing sea grates on my nerves. I am still not comfortable here. But there is no turning back now.
I stare, drinking in the overwhelming distances and sights. There is no order here. There is only a wild kind of chaos. You are at mercy of the whims of extremes. In the sea, you are hardly in control. It is only frail and frayed strings of courage that keeps you afloat -- but should the sea decide, you will be dragged down into its depths.
I shiver again, this time despite the cold.
All I can hear is the sea and its accomplice, the wind.
I do not like being overwhelmed, but I am, again, as I have been so many times since we parted ways.
A sigh escapes me. I am tired of this, too, of these episodes of churning terror salted with self-pity. I was courageous once.
You still are.
Just a whisper in the wind, but I hear you.
I step closer to the edge, where pale sand shifts to dark. My toes brush dampness. I am so reminded of everything. I want to turn around.
No more of this, no more of this crushing depression.
I walk out, into the great open and hungry maw of the sea. I am swallowed by blackness, and everywhere I am stained with it.
I will be strong.
I hold out as long as I can.
But the sea is merciless, terrible, and omnipotent. And I am fallible, small, insignificant.
And I do not know how to swim.
~
Benthic belongs to Apache.
Boxed Oceanic on 11/23/12!
[Adopted from the pound as a Toxic Gourix]
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