[align=center][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=1px; background-image: url(unknown); background-position: center; width: 400px; height: 5px; border-radius: 15px;][/fancypost]
[font=Mistral][size=50px]Riptide Amarna
[font=times][size=8]☼ akhenaten amarna xx quinn fabray ☼ male [color=#99C68E]☼ [color=white]hawkclan [color=#99C68E] ☼ [color=white]knight [color=#99C68E]☼
[fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=1px; background-image: url(http://i1147.photobucket.com/a…e/Image-3_zps590b9b6e.png); background-position: center; width: 370px; height: 25px; border-radius: 15px;][/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: 0px solid transparent; width: 400px; height: 500px; border-left: 1px solid transparent #000000; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent #000000; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 11px;][align=center][justify][color=white]Facing the facts was not easy. The current facts were the hardest to face.
The current facts said that he didn't belong here. Didn't belong in this place, this new territory, didn't belong in HawkClan. Who the fuck had decided to move their home? A large paw slammed into a rotted wooden log, sending the soft pieces flying. The russet tom sheathed his claws and stalked through the forest, shoulders rotating powerfully and his manner dark and brooding. This wasn't home. This wasn't the sea he'd fallen in love with, the winds that pulled his being every which way, the territory that he'd spent his life knowing, inch by inch. There were no tidepools here to catch minnows in, or caves to shelter in, or familiar landmarks to mark his way by. These were not his old friends, the ones he'd gotten to know and love and die for.
Losing the sea was the worst part. Of course, there was still sea nearby -- but it wasn't right. The water here was tame as a newborn kitten. He could wander around the entire island and see nothing but smooth, calm shores. He missed the roiling surf of their old home, the days where the overcast sky would set the water to a dark, fitful gray-black color. He missed the fresh scent that burst off of the salt spray like the puffs of citrus that sprang forth when slicing into an orange. Maybe he should go back, just by himself. Live in the ghost of their old home on his own. Play at having a family, phantom Clanmates. Survive off the dead memories of what life used to be like.
The young tom eventually settled at the shore, flopping into the sand in his usual manner. Waves kissed his paws but he returned their affection with a queasy look of mistrust. This crystal ocean was not his ocean. There were no riptides in this sea.
ooc. because i feel depressed and reminiscent [hr]
[hr][/fancypost]