Those who were taken...
They never came back, dragged beneath the waves never to return.
Their haunting screams were a symbol of their horrific deaths.
Like shadows they lay in wait, the deep blue waters hiding them from view.
With sharp claws they...
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~•~
Hi mom :)
Cally rises with the dawn, the sun streaking into the small hut in little rays of transparent warmth. The heat of the morning sun is pleasant to her shaded limbs, the fire having burnt out sometime during the night. She arises slowly, awareness returning languidly to her senses.
As she gains consciousness, she notices warmth against her back as well. Actually, perhaps warmth is not quite the correct term. Burning is more accurate; hot, flaming heat along her spine.
Cally jumps awake, her body jolting away from the heat source. She whips around and is startled to see thick, orange flames curling upwards. They lick dangerously at the peak of the tarp tent, precariously close to the tree branches themselves. Cally coughs on the smoke as she looks frantically for an exit.
That's when her eyes alight on the very source of the problem itself. Atlas sits on the other side of the raging fire, his eyes filled with a destructive glee as he watches the flames rise higher and higher. A bundle of dried reeds and twigs are held in his arms, occasionally releasing a few into the fire. Cally has never seen him smile before, but he is very close to it now.
"What are you doing!?" She exclaims, already diving across to take the tinder away from him.
"It gets bigger the more you put in," he says in wonder.
"Yes!" She coughs. "That's how fire works!" She rips the reeds out of his hands, startling him from his pyromaniacal reverie. He looks at her in utter confusion as she grips his wrist and drags him from the smoke-filled tent. He goes with her willingly, wondering what has upset her so.
Once outside, Cally releases his wrist and anxiously turns around. Thankfully, the tent is not on fire, yet, just completely filled with smoke. She bends over, elbows on her knees as she hacks and coughs. Her eyes glance reproachfully up at Atlas, bothered to not see him in a similar state of distress. He looks down at her, arms crossed casually over his chest.
Cally stands up to her full height, still much shorter than he, and jabs a finger in his chest. "Are you insane?!" She asks, eyes fierce with anger. "That's my house! That's my house you nearly burned down! Do you have any idea how dangerous your little stunt was?! You could have killed me." She jabs her finger at him after every clause, bouncing on her toes like a boxer ready to fight. "You--you... pyromaniac you!"
She finishes her rant with an angry scowl. Cally knows she must look at least a little scary. She feels like she could be shooting lasers at him through her eyes. He nearly burned her home to the ground! Her little house would have been nothing but ashes in the sand if she hadn't awoken when she did. For heaven's sake, the man was a menace!
Atlas watches with utmost amusement.
His jaw aches with the effort of keeping the smile from his lips; however, his eyes clearly display the glee in his countenance. Of all the things he has put her through, this is the one she is most upset about. He has never seen her angry like this before and it is his favorite of her emotions thus far. Her tiny hands, fisted at her sides, nearly shake with rage. Her lips pull down into a pout, brows furrowing to form a crease above her nose. She probably is very angry, but to him she is no more threatening than a clam.
