Post by Coconut on Jan 25, 2009 4:53:31 GMT -5
((OOC: Yes, I'm Role-Playing with myself so I have the ability to get to the Boston thread, and so leave America.))
It was a warm day, the midday sun splashing it's golden light upon the sides of the heather covered mountains that guarded the valley like sleepy sentinels, dust motes sleepily dancing through the air, beneath the boughs of the sweet smelling, resin filled pine trees. The ground was covered with dead, brown pine needles, whilst the trees themselves were green and fresh, shielding small patches of ground from the warm eyes of the sun, a natural canopy that provided warmth and comfort. On the side of one of the mountains, a herd of wild deer grazed softly on the shrubs and plants that grew there. A pale, clear river wound it's way through the middle of the valley, swinging it's sandy hips to navigate around trees before forming a delta at the shores of a great lake.
This picturesque valley was one of very few oasis spots that had survived and flourished after the Third World War, yet outside reigned only the desert of sand, glass and chrome, so formed from the bones and corpses of ruined cities and settlements. The only dwelling, however, in this lovely valley of calm and harmony was a small, wooden hut, just after the treeline before the edges of the lake, the dark wood strong and yet aged, a small drawing on the door of what had once been the flag of the United States of America. At one end of the lake a waterfall slowly slid it's way into the pool, yet that was many miles away. The lake was clear and empty, any animals inside long since dead, nothing dangerous in the clear waters at all. Surprising, really, that the war had brought good to this place.
This, now, was all that was left of the area around and in what used to be called Detroit, and now only had one inhabitant. The water was crystal clear and fresh, easy to drink and sweet on the palate. The one inhabitant of the valley was a young, nineteen year old woman, Isla Dakana, swimming out in the middle of the lake. She had no bathing costume as described by her grandmother in the days of old and so she swum, shamelessly, completely naked. Modesty didn't come into it; after all, who would see her like this anyway? A few animals? She really didn't care about a few animals. The feeling of the silty sand between her toes was refreshingly warm and soft, and she scrunched her toes gently, closing her eyes and laughing gently with the delight such a simple action bought.
Standing up, she raised her arms wide, letting the sun warm her water covered body, her lightly tanned limbs shining like beaten gold under the sun, giving her the appearance of a mermaid from the tales of old, beautiful and young, her wet hair hanging in bedraggled knots onto her curved, smooth back, her hips just about visible above the water as she fell forwards with a splash and a laugh, swimming like a fish back towards the shore. When she was just some twenty yards or so out, she spread herself out into a flat, starfish like position on the water, on her back, letting the softly undulating waves rock her gently on to the sand of the beach. The feeling of the soft grains upon her back was refreshing, almost like a massage, and as she made her way up the shore, taking a towel from where she'd left it and wrapping it around herself, back up to the house, she smiled, warmly.
It was a warm day, the midday sun splashing it's golden light upon the sides of the heather covered mountains that guarded the valley like sleepy sentinels, dust motes sleepily dancing through the air, beneath the boughs of the sweet smelling, resin filled pine trees. The ground was covered with dead, brown pine needles, whilst the trees themselves were green and fresh, shielding small patches of ground from the warm eyes of the sun, a natural canopy that provided warmth and comfort. On the side of one of the mountains, a herd of wild deer grazed softly on the shrubs and plants that grew there. A pale, clear river wound it's way through the middle of the valley, swinging it's sandy hips to navigate around trees before forming a delta at the shores of a great lake.
This picturesque valley was one of very few oasis spots that had survived and flourished after the Third World War, yet outside reigned only the desert of sand, glass and chrome, so formed from the bones and corpses of ruined cities and settlements. The only dwelling, however, in this lovely valley of calm and harmony was a small, wooden hut, just after the treeline before the edges of the lake, the dark wood strong and yet aged, a small drawing on the door of what had once been the flag of the United States of America. At one end of the lake a waterfall slowly slid it's way into the pool, yet that was many miles away. The lake was clear and empty, any animals inside long since dead, nothing dangerous in the clear waters at all. Surprising, really, that the war had brought good to this place.
This, now, was all that was left of the area around and in what used to be called Detroit, and now only had one inhabitant. The water was crystal clear and fresh, easy to drink and sweet on the palate. The one inhabitant of the valley was a young, nineteen year old woman, Isla Dakana, swimming out in the middle of the lake. She had no bathing costume as described by her grandmother in the days of old and so she swum, shamelessly, completely naked. Modesty didn't come into it; after all, who would see her like this anyway? A few animals? She really didn't care about a few animals. The feeling of the silty sand between her toes was refreshingly warm and soft, and she scrunched her toes gently, closing her eyes and laughing gently with the delight such a simple action bought.
Standing up, she raised her arms wide, letting the sun warm her water covered body, her lightly tanned limbs shining like beaten gold under the sun, giving her the appearance of a mermaid from the tales of old, beautiful and young, her wet hair hanging in bedraggled knots onto her curved, smooth back, her hips just about visible above the water as she fell forwards with a splash and a laugh, swimming like a fish back towards the shore. When she was just some twenty yards or so out, she spread herself out into a flat, starfish like position on the water, on her back, letting the softly undulating waves rock her gently on to the sand of the beach. The feeling of the soft grains upon her back was refreshing, almost like a massage, and as she made her way up the shore, taking a towel from where she'd left it and wrapping it around herself, back up to the house, she smiled, warmly.