Post by evan on Oct 14, 2014 14:08:08 GMT 1
He closed his eyes and opened them; it made no difference. He slept and woke and slept again. He did not know which was more painful, the waking or the sleeping. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbing dreams of blood and broken promises. When he woke, there was nothing to do but think, and his waking thoughts were worse than his nightmares.
His heart is pounding heavily as he awakes. Sweat is dripping down his back, his throat feels sore, and his head is about to explode. He curses under his breath and kicks the blankets away, he throws his legs out of bed and bows forward. He leans with his elbows on his knees, his head weighing heavy in his hands. Dark disturbing dreams bother him once again, and he growls lightly. In a rage of anger he picks up a book and throws it across the room, a thundering sound echoes through the little farmhouse. He mutters something under his breath before he straightens his back, and pushes his hair behind his ears. He walks towards the window and starts pacing up and down, until his patience just snaps and he kicks the chair out of pure agony. He throws his head back into his shoulders and inhales deeply.
Patter of feet echoes through the hallway, and it’s just a matter of time before his door opens up just a little bit. A feminine face peeks through the crack of the open door, eyes pale white, a worried smile across her lips. 'Everything all right, Evan?’ she asks softly, dark curls falling beside her pale, freckled face. He walks towards her and opens the door further. 'Everything is fine, go back to sleep' he mutters in a low baritone. She smiles wearily, plainly aware of his sleep deprivation, but she turns around and withdraws to her own room.
A couple of years ago he had taken Bella into his home, his little sister only had a couple of years left before her vision would turn opaque. She had her own separate building in the back of the land, but most of the time she just slept in the guest room. He didn’t see her much really, she had a way of disappearing and going her own way. Days later she would turn up and act as if nothing was wrong. He got angry with her, every single time, but he wasn’t her father, and she frequently reminded him of that.
A sigh escapes his breath, and he rubs his forehead. He’s tired, and lonesome. The sweat has gone cold on his skin, and he throws on some clothes to keep him warm. He loads his buffalo rifle and hangs it around his back. He puts on his boots and hat, and leaves his room to gather his volcanic pistol in the living room. He throws the front door shut behind him and walks unto the sandy path to the stables. It had almost been ten years since he started his farm, built on the money he inherited from his criminal father. He still loves the smell of the morning, the musk of the horses. He can hear his cattle in the distance. The high grass sways up and down in the soft breeze, and strikes his calves as he walks across his land. His eyes gaze across the paddock, the black and white painted horse stands out amongst the others. He whistles and the stallion rises it’s head in anticipation. Evan gather his tack and saddles his horse, before he mounts and leads towards the west.
In a sturdy gallop he runs across the plains, the breeze cold against his skin, as if a thousand needles sting him. He rides for hours, the silence calming for his mind. It’s around ten when he enters the village, his horse in a slow trot and his head already filled with stress. He dismounts and straps the horse to a pole. He’s out in the back smoking a cigaret when he hears the patter of footsteps. He throws his cigaret on the floor and pulls his hat down, so his face hides in shadows.
OOC: Flight only!
His heart is pounding heavily as he awakes. Sweat is dripping down his back, his throat feels sore, and his head is about to explode. He curses under his breath and kicks the blankets away, he throws his legs out of bed and bows forward. He leans with his elbows on his knees, his head weighing heavy in his hands. Dark disturbing dreams bother him once again, and he growls lightly. In a rage of anger he picks up a book and throws it across the room, a thundering sound echoes through the little farmhouse. He mutters something under his breath before he straightens his back, and pushes his hair behind his ears. He walks towards the window and starts pacing up and down, until his patience just snaps and he kicks the chair out of pure agony. He throws his head back into his shoulders and inhales deeply.
Patter of feet echoes through the hallway, and it’s just a matter of time before his door opens up just a little bit. A feminine face peeks through the crack of the open door, eyes pale white, a worried smile across her lips. 'Everything all right, Evan?’ she asks softly, dark curls falling beside her pale, freckled face. He walks towards her and opens the door further. 'Everything is fine, go back to sleep' he mutters in a low baritone. She smiles wearily, plainly aware of his sleep deprivation, but she turns around and withdraws to her own room.
A couple of years ago he had taken Bella into his home, his little sister only had a couple of years left before her vision would turn opaque. She had her own separate building in the back of the land, but most of the time she just slept in the guest room. He didn’t see her much really, she had a way of disappearing and going her own way. Days later she would turn up and act as if nothing was wrong. He got angry with her, every single time, but he wasn’t her father, and she frequently reminded him of that.
A sigh escapes his breath, and he rubs his forehead. He’s tired, and lonesome. The sweat has gone cold on his skin, and he throws on some clothes to keep him warm. He loads his buffalo rifle and hangs it around his back. He puts on his boots and hat, and leaves his room to gather his volcanic pistol in the living room. He throws the front door shut behind him and walks unto the sandy path to the stables. It had almost been ten years since he started his farm, built on the money he inherited from his criminal father. He still loves the smell of the morning, the musk of the horses. He can hear his cattle in the distance. The high grass sways up and down in the soft breeze, and strikes his calves as he walks across his land. His eyes gaze across the paddock, the black and white painted horse stands out amongst the others. He whistles and the stallion rises it’s head in anticipation. Evan gather his tack and saddles his horse, before he mounts and leads towards the west.
In a sturdy gallop he runs across the plains, the breeze cold against his skin, as if a thousand needles sting him. He rides for hours, the silence calming for his mind. It’s around ten when he enters the village, his horse in a slow trot and his head already filled with stress. He dismounts and straps the horse to a pole. He’s out in the back smoking a cigaret when he hears the patter of footsteps. He throws his cigaret on the floor and pulls his hat down, so his face hides in shadows.
OOC: Flight only!
I just noticed.
didn't have time for a post today, and I will also probably be busy tomorrow >< sorry.