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Aramis had gotten more than he bargained for when he decided to bring Bre along with him on his nomadic travels. No wonder the girl was on her own when I met her, he mused, taking a large, wanton bite out of his bitter green apple. She's a blithering, delusional idiot. He pondered as to what unbelievable level of desperation for company led him to take someone like her under his wing, and made a mental note to avoid such decisions in the future. This is why, only about two months earlier, he unceremoniously dumped her on the roadside in the middle of a particularly vicious rainstorm, laughing as she trudged back to wherever she came from through the thick mud. He barely allowed himself to remember her as he looked up at the sky.
It was a particularly beautiful afternoon; a bit chilly for his tastes, but still tolerable. The sun above him was shining fiercely through the patchwork of heavy cumulus clouds that tried so hard to obstruct it. His travels had brought him to Villimaroon, one of his favorite countries. He always had a place in his heart for its absolutely breathtaking landscape. Villimaroon was bursting with gentle, rolling hills that dipped easily and crested with just as little effort. Against the backdrop of an almost constant coal-gray sky, the grassy hills beneath the heavens boasted a deep, powerful, healthy emerald green. Although the fields were usually bare of flowers, they were so incredibly rich in their simplicity that the mere thought of adding flowers seemed to violently disrupt the serenity. Woods and forests, when encountered, were full of towering pines and spotted ashes, the air within their confines thick with the scent of sap and foliage and fruit. It was an absolute treasure trove of free meals in there, what with all the free-roaming fauna and flora inhabiting the place. The people of Villimaroon were also exceptionally charming: quick with a joke, a smile, and always ready to share a story. Sure, they were a tad on the short side, but then again, Aramis was descended from the unusually tall Meenonite race. Being among the Vollans made him stick out like a sore thumb, but their attention was something he valued.
Sitting down atop one of Villimaroon's signature hills, he took his time eating the bitter apple, observing the landscape. Everything around him looked exactly the same and, for a moment, he'd lost his bearings. "...Where the hell am I?" he wondered aloud, scanning the hills for something familiar, something he knew for sure he'd put behind him. He found no such landmark, however, and raised his eyebrows at the revelation.
"I'm lost."
It wasn't a nervous laugh by any means; instead, it was something borne from the realization of his own absent-mindedness. Gathering his things, he simply decided to press on forward, in as straight a line as possible. He's bound to hit something, eventually. At least, that was his reasoning. Looking back at his track record, however, he hadn't made a lot of good decisions. Second-guessing himself right now would probably be a worse mistake, however. And so, taking a final bite out of the apple and spitting out a seed or two, he tossed the fruit aside and made his way into the uncertain horizon, hoping against hope to encounter humanity sometime in the near future.
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Wed Dec 07, 2005 @ 02:33am · 0 Comments |
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