Jul 28 2022, 07:11 PM
consciousness comes in starts and stops. an awareness that seeps in slowly, honey from the comb; the steady thump of a beating heart, the rush of blood through veins, a bone-deep contentment that warms muscles, which brings about the realization that he has muscles. a deep breath in, and he becomes profoundly aware of his own lungs. a breath out, and he discovers the rise and fall of his chest. existence is beautiful, for the first phase - all he knows is darkness and silence and the growing of his own body, his own mind; safe within a cocoon of polished ivory jade, he has yet to acknowledge the trials and tribulations of the world outside, and were he to be aware of them, he would refuse to emerge. but emerge he must - to face the world, he is destined, and so it is that he grows too big for the stone encasing his frame. and so it is that his safe-haven fractures, shatters; as he too one day will. and so it is that he enters this new plane of existence, where, though he is still surrounded by the comforting darkness, the very air is different. he can feel, now, can stretch previously constrained limbs and perceive new senses. he can hear, now; not only his own thoughts, but the wind as it whistles through his fur. can smell new scents that don't make sense to his young brain, things too new and strange to name. the new sensations distress him, and he finds himself whining, vocal chords vibrating deep within his throat. the small, pitiful sound echoes throughout the space, bouncing back to hit against inexperienced ears. it rips another whine from him, and he hunches into himself, nuzzling slim muzzle beneath the curve of his paws in an attempt to hide himself. |