Story Scenes and Oneshots

The Sight of One Eye

Once more into Wholesomeness! I plan to have no triggers here, so there's a possible relief for some of my friends out there, and I hope it is enjoyable.

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Winter and summer meant the same thing in the cold Wildlands beyond the Testing Seas, but that mattered little to one who had braved the worst of what each season and wind could offer. Throwing his fur cloak over his shoulders, he stepped out of his castle doors to where a massive polar bear stood waiting. Already saddled and bridled by the invisible servants that belonged to the stately home, the bear was his only mount, and a trusted friend.

With a pat and a quick offer of some meat, the man mounted the huge animal and they set off into frozen lands together. They were going hunting, or at least that was their secondary purpose. Primarily, the man hoped to find a certain someone he'd found before and who had greatly intrigued his curiosity.

Other than his cloak and thick clothes, the man wore little protection against the cold, letting his roseate hair flutter freely in the winter breeze and his hands held the bridle of his bear without gloves. He was solidly built, strong and very used to this climate. His appearance told of a harsh past, for not only did his face bear scars, but one eye was pale and damaged from a slice that had nearly cut it in two. The other gleamed red-gold in the morning sun. His short beard, as well as his hair, bore a few plaited braids ornamented with gold.

Through a vast plain of snow and ice-sheathed trees the man rode, only pausing once he had reached a forest at the end of the plain. There on his left, a river mouth rushed from between a group of boulders that marked the edge of a large cliff extending far up towards the sky. The forest stretched off to his right, where the river flowed. The man dismounted from his bear. Resting his hands in the animal's fur, he leaned in, whispering in its ear, "Home, now, Steve. Good boy. Good, good boy. Go home. I'll call you tonight. Go home now." With a snort and a nudge against its master's body, the bear obeyed, turning back the way it had come and galloping off into the snow.

With a deep breath, the man faced the woods. From within his cloak he retrieved a crown of deep gold with spikes that curved upwards. Setting it on his brow, he strode forwards, into the narrow spaces between the dark trees.

He did not have to travel far; he soon heard the sound of low-thundering water and the edge of his realm was in sight: a huge cliff, falling away in crags and sheer drops, down which the river beside him fell in a roaring mass of water and spray. Before him spread other lands, still forested, but warmer and more populated. The man turned aside from the sight, looking closely about for that someone he had come in search for. Hunting was all but forgotten now; the stranger consumed his attention.

At last, some twenty feet from the river and lying on one of the many rocks that dotted this part of the land, he discovered what he sought. A young man, blond-haired with enormous black wings that covered most of his body, was sleeping. His skin was dirty and rough, especially about his hands, and he was terribly thin.

Carefully, the man sat down a few feet away, his hands on his knees. "Wake up, little bird." Though there was no immediate response, he waited, noting the change in the person's breathing that showed he was in fact awake.

Seconds passed, then the winged youth opened one blue eye. His face took on an expression of rueful amusement as he observed the stranger before him. "Ah." He said. "Sire, you caught me unawares, or I'd have saluted you."

But his visitor brushed the words aside. "I am no sire, call me none of that. But you," he added, eyes lighting up in curiosity, "I have found you again."

Wings rustled as the youth sat up, wrapping his body about with the black feathers. "You have." He admitted. "Though I must wonder why. Who are you, and why do you seek me?"