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taxonomites2010-06-29 09:33 am
riddler-gump.livejournal.com) wrote in taxonomites2010-06-29 09:33 am
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003: June 28 [Location: Wilde, with no clear direction in mind]
In the Enchanted Forest, all is not well. One moment, an elf might find himself perfectly comfortable in the summer-like heat (if a bit short of breath and nauseous, though he'll be the last to admit it), lounging on a bed of moss in the shade of a big tree almost as old as himself.
The following moment, however, upon opening his eyes only to see a dried up, dead forest spreading around him, well, anyone would find that jarring. Had they a heart to speak of, they would find it horrifying. Gump has both a heart and a mind to take pride in, and he certainly finds it horrifying and jarring. Furthermore, it breaks his heart.
And then, as if through some sinister magic, in just the blink of an eye, everything changes back to what it was: serene, beautiful, full of life...
Gump starts running out of his patch of homeland as if Darkness himself were on his tail, exiting the forest with heavy heart and deep, heaving huffs of air that doesn't seem to fill him up the way they ought.
He can't stay here. He can't sit quietly and let himself be kept like a bird in a pretty little cage. He cannot abide it. He will not, and he shall not.
If only he can make his legs carry him the distance, there's no time to waste. There must be a way out somehow.
The following moment, however, upon opening his eyes only to see a dried up, dead forest spreading around him, well, anyone would find that jarring. Had they a heart to speak of, they would find it horrifying. Gump has both a heart and a mind to take pride in, and he certainly finds it horrifying and jarring. Furthermore, it breaks his heart.
And then, as if through some sinister magic, in just the blink of an eye, everything changes back to what it was: serene, beautiful, full of life...
Gump starts running out of his patch of homeland as if Darkness himself were on his tail, exiting the forest with heavy heart and deep, heaving huffs of air that doesn't seem to fill him up the way they ought.
He can't stay here. He can't sit quietly and let himself be kept like a bird in a pretty little cage. He cannot abide it. He will not, and he shall not.
If only he can make his legs carry him the distance, there's no time to waste. There must be a way out somehow.