Farther (alyxbradford) (13 Nov)
Title: Farther
Author: Alyx Bradford
House: Slytherin
Date/Challenge: 13 Nov - I travel not to go anywhere, but to go
Character/Pairing: Godric Gryffindor
Rating: PG
Sometimes it was hot ecru sands, blowing rough against his cheeks under a scorching midnight. Sometimes it was a sky so blue it melted seamlessly into the sea, with clouds as white as the wavecaps. Sometimes it was jungle undergrowth so thick he had to cut a path for himself.
Sometimes there were strange and brilliant creatures, fanged or feathered or both, species he had never heard nor read of. Sometimes there were people, smiling in welcoming hospitality or glaring from threatening shadows. Sometimes there was no one at all, only the echoing sound of his own thoughts to break the stillness of the world.
And sometimes it didn’t matter what the surroundings were, what the people were like, or what new flora and fauna could be seen. So long as they were new, so long as they were different, it was enough.
Occasionally he thought of what was left behind, in England. He would think of the castle that had become home to him, and he would think of the moon-eyed beauty, of her raven plaits and shining smile. He would think of the way she had lifted her chin and looked away, the way that, for once, she had kept her eloquence silent, her sword of a tongue not raised to his defence. He would think of a chilling autumn night, and a breeze swirling the banners on the ramparts, and that would be enough to send him on to his next destination, to drive him farther south, farther east, farther away.
Author: Alyx Bradford
House: Slytherin
Date/Challenge: 13 Nov - I travel not to go anywhere, but to go
Character/Pairing: Godric Gryffindor
Rating: PG
Sometimes it was hot ecru sands, blowing rough against his cheeks under a scorching midnight. Sometimes it was a sky so blue it melted seamlessly into the sea, with clouds as white as the wavecaps. Sometimes it was jungle undergrowth so thick he had to cut a path for himself.
Sometimes there were strange and brilliant creatures, fanged or feathered or both, species he had never heard nor read of. Sometimes there were people, smiling in welcoming hospitality or glaring from threatening shadows. Sometimes there was no one at all, only the echoing sound of his own thoughts to break the stillness of the world.
And sometimes it didn’t matter what the surroundings were, what the people were like, or what new flora and fauna could be seen. So long as they were new, so long as they were different, it was enough.
Occasionally he thought of what was left behind, in England. He would think of the castle that had become home to him, and he would think of the moon-eyed beauty, of her raven plaits and shining smile. He would think of the way she had lifted her chin and looked away, the way that, for once, she had kept her eloquence silent, her sword of a tongue not raised to his defence. He would think of a chilling autumn night, and a breeze swirling the banners on the ramparts, and that would be enough to send him on to his next destination, to drive him farther south, farther east, farther away.