Post by puffinwhisperer on Sept 6, 2011 20:12:13 GMT -5
The breeze wafting from the sea reminded him of the smell of pepper, almost; there was something similar about the way the salt-laden air tickled his nose. Waves chorused against the rocks time and time again, just irregularly enough that he noticed it every few minutes. The sky couldn't seem to make up its mind about being sunny or overcast; occasionally, they would receive a few minutes' interlude of sunshine, only to be interrupted by a bulky, violet-gray cloud.
Egil poised himself at the edge of the cliff, careful to keep his weight balanced further back. The potential danger was part of the allure of the cliffs of Granor, though the stark beauty of the sheer drops and craggy recesses also factored in. And while they were sometimes considered the homes of people too poor or too crazy to live in the city proper, the cliffs offered a few hours' respite from the sometimes-overwhelming bustle at the bar and the city in general.
That and it was almost like stepping back into childhood with Nikolai again. No matter how much they grew up and changed, the formidable rocks stayed constant throughout.
Mr. Puffin hopped along the cliffside, watching the few seabirds that also meandered about nearby. Egil glanced over at his bird every few minutes just to make sure that the puffin didn't get himself into any trouble.
"Brings back memories, eh, bror?" he called to Nikolai. "Like the time we had a picnic and the gulls stole our dessert." The memory brought a smile to his face as he looked back at Nikolai.
Post by thenorgeone on Sept 14, 2011 10:42:24 GMT -5
Nikolai stared down at the rocks, hands tucked into his pockets for warmth and a small frown of thought on his face. He’d nearly died countless times on these very cliffs and somehow was still drawn to their beauty. The small rush of excitement from remembering his near falls, the frightening feeling of dangling over the edge. Having Egil with him, Mr. Puffin wandering around, he felt like a boy playing games one the sparse grasses of the field behind them. Threatening to push Egil into the water if he didn’t behave.
The quiet whistling howl of the wind reminded him of something else. Something a little more bitter sweet. The memory of his father and mother taking him here, his mother singing quietly while they watched the sun go down and gazed up at the stars. Then later, coming here with only his father and being told that his mother had passed on and Nikolai now had to be there for his little brother.
Egil’s voice cut through the quiet whispers and Nikolai looked over at him. He remembered that picnic. They’d been getting ready to eat the lemon cake he’d bought on the way out of town when gulls had descended on them, lead by his brother’s blasted puffin, and made off with the treat. Of course he knew that Mr. Puffin hadn’t meant to do it, had only been fleeing to the relative safety of their small set up, but he’d still been annoyed enough with the bird to throw it over the cliff.
“Ja, I remember. Maybe we should have puffin tonight for dinner lillebror? He should be fat enough by now.”
Post by puffinwhisperer on Sept 19, 2011 21:01:03 GMT -5
"Ha. You're funny," Egil replied callously, rolling his eyes. He couldn't remember when Nikolai had begun threatening to eat his bird, but it was a long time ago and he had yet to figure out how to get him to stop. Still, with all the instances of trouble the puffin had caused, he could see where his brother was coming from.
As if he could sense that they were talking about him, Mr. Puffin perked up and turned his beady little eyes toward the brothers, but quickly lost interest and dived off one of the cliffs in search of a snack. Egil watched the bird dip and rise on the invisible pockets of air, gracefully skimming the waves below. Without warning, the bird shot down into the water for all of five seconds, then emerged victoriously, a herring in his beak.
Egil walked to the very edge of the cliff and looked down, careful to keep his weight balanced. Below the waves crashed relentlessly, an unforgiving blue-grey with speckled of white foam. He sat down and dangled his legs off the edge, wondering for the millionth time what it would feel like to jump off, to be weightless in the air for a few short moments, to fly like his puffin. But he would never say that out loud--he had no doubt that Nik would take it too seriously and forbid him from ever coming out to the cliffs again, all under the guise of "protecting his lillebror." Ridiculous, but there was nothing Egil could do about it.
"But speaking of dinner," he said as if their conversation hadn't lagged at all in the few minutes of silence, "Do you know what Tino's making tonight?"
Post by thenorgeone on Oct 13, 2011 18:45:00 GMT -5
Eyeing his brother to make sure he doesn’t fall over the edge, Nikolai shrugged. “He said something about using the salmon before it went bad. We’ll probably have fish again.” Not that he was complaining. Nikolai was rather fond of any kind of fish. He didn’t even mind the foul smelling rotted shark his lillebror liked to snack on.
Though he never went out and bought it himself. It made the house smell awful. He wasn’t really a fan of the after taste either.