tristan
Laying prone with his limbs spread, the blue sky overhead seemed endless.
He watched, captivated and awed, as white clouds drifted lazily by and shifted shape upon an endless backdrop of blue. There was no sense of touch, of smell, or of sound and general awareness to his person. He was a stranger, a foreigner, unaccustomed and unwanted in a land he had no memory of arriving in. Everything existed in a muted sense, muffled, as though he were immersed in water.
What was the last thing he could recall?
Eyes fluttered closed, and he thought back. A sharp inhale, the scent of herbs or spice. Smoke. The calm, steady beat of his heart, dirt and foliage beneath his searching fingertips. Adrenaline. Panic. Steel. Silence in his ears. A shout of his name, and then nothing. Nothing? No, that wasn’t right. He was most definitely somewhere now and still very much alive, but where?
With a groan, Tristan slowly forced himself to move from his prone position on the ground. He sat up, head throbbing, his entire body aching. Eyes opened and he took in his immediate surroundings, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. A hand cupped at his left side, where his shirt was stained with blood from an injury he could not remember gaining, and blue eyes roamed the area that he found himself in.
He had awoken upon dirt, grass, and some kind of plant that smelled almost sweet to his nose. Around him appeared to be a garden of some sorts, small and quaint in a way that reminded him of the farmstead he had grown up on. It was well tended to by someone far more talented than he was. As his eyes wandered, Tristan spotted the humble cottage only a few paces away, and were it not for the muddled state of his mind, he was certain an instinctual sort of panic would have taken hold.
What was he doing here? And where was here?
He had been riding along the main road, his horse at a leisurely lope beneath him, and then… Then…
Sitting in a strange garden, the dirty, bloodied brunette remained still, hoping it would all come back to him. Above, the clouds continued to drift by in a sky of bright blue, the world both new and knowing.
He watched, captivated and awed, as white clouds drifted lazily by and shifted shape upon an endless backdrop of blue. There was no sense of touch, of smell, or of sound and general awareness to his person. He was a stranger, a foreigner, unaccustomed and unwanted in a land he had no memory of arriving in. Everything existed in a muted sense, muffled, as though he were immersed in water.
What was the last thing he could recall?
Eyes fluttered closed, and he thought back. A sharp inhale, the scent of herbs or spice. Smoke. The calm, steady beat of his heart, dirt and foliage beneath his searching fingertips. Adrenaline. Panic. Steel. Silence in his ears. A shout of his name, and then nothing. Nothing? No, that wasn’t right. He was most definitely somewhere now and still very much alive, but where?
With a groan, Tristan slowly forced himself to move from his prone position on the ground. He sat up, head throbbing, his entire body aching. Eyes opened and he took in his immediate surroundings, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. A hand cupped at his left side, where his shirt was stained with blood from an injury he could not remember gaining, and blue eyes roamed the area that he found himself in.
He had awoken upon dirt, grass, and some kind of plant that smelled almost sweet to his nose. Around him appeared to be a garden of some sorts, small and quaint in a way that reminded him of the farmstead he had grown up on. It was well tended to by someone far more talented than he was. As his eyes wandered, Tristan spotted the humble cottage only a few paces away, and were it not for the muddled state of his mind, he was certain an instinctual sort of panic would have taken hold.
What was he doing here? And where was here?
He had been riding along the main road, his horse at a leisurely lope beneath him, and then… Then…
Sitting in a strange garden, the dirty, bloodied brunette remained still, hoping it would all come back to him. Above, the clouds continued to drift by in a sky of bright blue, the world both new and knowing.
