Drabble #57
Aug. 12th, 2010 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sagesariaPrompt: #59: Listless
Fandom: Shadow of the Colossus
Genre: General?
Rating: PG
Notes: I actually started this before I finished the game, and it took me actually finishing it and months of writer’s block to finish writing it XD
Wander’s eyes glazed as they traveled across the barren plains, Agro’s slow steps keeping rhythm in the silence. He closed his eyes, feeling himself rocking gently in the saddle. A cool wind blew past, soothing his sweaty face and fanning his sand-ridden red hair.
The desert seemed to stretch on forever to the horizon. The trek across it had already taken what seemed to be hours, and several times Wander had questioned whether they were even going the right way. Yet the sword had guided him true so far.
Everything had a sort of haze about it. Before, he had felt nothing but apprehension of what mountainous beast he would encounter in this wasteland, and desperation to reach it and defeat it, driven on by the voice that called his name in his dreams. But as they rode on, all he could think of was the heat of the sun and the aches of his past battles. The sacred blade became heavy in his hands, and the horse’s steps over the uneven sand swayed him on his perch and made his stomach churn slightly. Yet through the draining journey, the thought of Mono was never cast aside. Her memory, though seemingly faint of late, was all Wander could hold in his weakening grip, all that could dull the pain of the fight, all that kept him egging himself, and his weary mare, on.
As he followed the sword’s light, so did he follow her image, rippling in the horizon. She smiled and beckoned silently, her woven gown swaying in the dry desert wind. Yet a sadness remained in her eyes; a longing, her silent and desperate encouragement to him. His hazy eyes remained affixed on her, attempting to call out but finding his dry throat could barely strangle out a single word. She seemed to drift further away as they approached her. Wander extended his heavy arm, attempting to reach her.
The next thing he knew was a sharp pain in his shoulder and the disturbed sand swirling briefly around him as he found himself on the ground. Wincing, he rolled onto his back, staring dazed at the clear sky a moment before Agro, startled by her master’s fall, nosed the hem of his poncho urgently. His tired expression didn’t change as he gave the black mare a gentle pat on the neck. She shook out her mane with a snort and turned to forage for sparse plantlife.
Slowly Wander willed himself upright, finding that he had come upon one of the stone shrines that the ones who once dwelled in this ghostly wasteland had erected. Grateful for a safe haven he found his shaking feet, dragging himself the few, but long steps to meet it. Several white-tailed lizards spooked as he fell hard against the wall bearing the ever-watchful face of the shrine. He rested his head against the cool stone a moment, catching his tired breath and basking in the shade he had come to miss in the desert sun. Then slowly he brought his legs in onto the shrine floor, sand scratching the soles of his feet inside his tattered slippers.
He rested his head on his arm, and as his consciousness slipped away into another restless sleep he swore he could feel soft fingers trailing the marks crawling over his face and caressing his disarrayed hair.
Fandom: Shadow of the Colossus
Genre: General?
Rating: PG
Notes: I actually started this before I finished the game, and it took me actually finishing it and months of writer’s block to finish writing it XD
Wander’s eyes glazed as they traveled across the barren plains, Agro’s slow steps keeping rhythm in the silence. He closed his eyes, feeling himself rocking gently in the saddle. A cool wind blew past, soothing his sweaty face and fanning his sand-ridden red hair.
The desert seemed to stretch on forever to the horizon. The trek across it had already taken what seemed to be hours, and several times Wander had questioned whether they were even going the right way. Yet the sword had guided him true so far.
Everything had a sort of haze about it. Before, he had felt nothing but apprehension of what mountainous beast he would encounter in this wasteland, and desperation to reach it and defeat it, driven on by the voice that called his name in his dreams. But as they rode on, all he could think of was the heat of the sun and the aches of his past battles. The sacred blade became heavy in his hands, and the horse’s steps over the uneven sand swayed him on his perch and made his stomach churn slightly. Yet through the draining journey, the thought of Mono was never cast aside. Her memory, though seemingly faint of late, was all Wander could hold in his weakening grip, all that could dull the pain of the fight, all that kept him egging himself, and his weary mare, on.
As he followed the sword’s light, so did he follow her image, rippling in the horizon. She smiled and beckoned silently, her woven gown swaying in the dry desert wind. Yet a sadness remained in her eyes; a longing, her silent and desperate encouragement to him. His hazy eyes remained affixed on her, attempting to call out but finding his dry throat could barely strangle out a single word. She seemed to drift further away as they approached her. Wander extended his heavy arm, attempting to reach her.
The next thing he knew was a sharp pain in his shoulder and the disturbed sand swirling briefly around him as he found himself on the ground. Wincing, he rolled onto his back, staring dazed at the clear sky a moment before Agro, startled by her master’s fall, nosed the hem of his poncho urgently. His tired expression didn’t change as he gave the black mare a gentle pat on the neck. She shook out her mane with a snort and turned to forage for sparse plantlife.
Slowly Wander willed himself upright, finding that he had come upon one of the stone shrines that the ones who once dwelled in this ghostly wasteland had erected. Grateful for a safe haven he found his shaking feet, dragging himself the few, but long steps to meet it. Several white-tailed lizards spooked as he fell hard against the wall bearing the ever-watchful face of the shrine. He rested his head against the cool stone a moment, catching his tired breath and basking in the shade he had come to miss in the desert sun. Then slowly he brought his legs in onto the shrine floor, sand scratching the soles of his feet inside his tattered slippers.
He rested his head on his arm, and as his consciousness slipped away into another restless sleep he swore he could feel soft fingers trailing the marks crawling over his face and caressing his disarrayed hair.
