Shuffling his bare feet in the warm sand, Oberyn readjusted his position for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Although the young boy had a knack for sitting still, half an hour was starting to test his patience. He surveyed the beach with eyes narrowed in scrutiny, awaiting the right moment to strike.
The wait wasn't easy. Although the low tangle of leaves disguised his small form from prying eyes, Oberyn was anything but impervious to the honed senses of those pesky forest insects. A stream of ants marched across his forearm, scurrying across the oddly shaped obstacle in a hurry to return to their nest. A caterpillar soon appeared on his shoulder, curiously poking at the collar of Oberyn's jerkin. While to some, the sudden onslaught of pests would be unnerving, the young Rosendahl found it splendid. Situated on the coast, the beaches of Nirath proved a stark contrast to the rest of Swynmont. The squishy sand that lined the seaboard was smooth and devoid of impurities. The soil, encouraged by a constant supply of rain, gave birth to trees of grandiose height, along with an army of shrubbery. Even the wood that made up the docks seemed more vibrant on this short span of coastline, something entirely different from the drab and lackluster shades that characterized Swynmont.
Oberyn's pleasant thoughts were interrupted when an imposing mass of flesh lumbered just in front of his hideout, headed towards the harbor.
A perfect target.
The bulbous dockhand began arranging the barrels of freshly-caught fish onto a wooden sled, taking a few moments to ensure that they were roped on tight. The Nirath resident then began ambling back the way he came, tugging the daily catch further inland. Unfortunately for him, he retraced his earlier steps, thrusting him into the pathway of Oberyn's newest contraption.
Perhaps "contraption" was an overstatement. The entire trinket had been devised in less than an hour; having been instructed to board a local seiner and assist the crew on their quotidian voyage, Oberyn elected to bring along various materials in an attempt to ward off the boredom that typically reared its ugly head during fishing trips. After spending three days chasing a feisty young whale, the concept of opening up a net and letting it drag behind a vessel was diminished to something less than mundane.
So he worked and worked, brainstorming and playing and fiddling around until he managed to procure a long and thin knickknack that bore an uncanny resemblance to a common snake. It was this very knickknack that the boy had curled around the branch of a tree, attached to a thin string. As the dockhand passed underneath that very branch, Oberyn gave the rope a sharp tug, the sudden force untangling the "snake" from its hiding spot. Down it flew, damning the unlucky sailor below to an unpleasant welc--
"Are you paying attention?"
Snapping back to the present, the young Rosendahl's chest deflated in a sigh of disappointment. He wasn't in Nirath. He was seated across from his tutor, a map sprawled across the table between them. Geography. His favorite subject.
The wait wasn't easy. Although the low tangle of leaves disguised his small form from prying eyes, Oberyn was anything but impervious to the honed senses of those pesky forest insects. A stream of ants marched across his forearm, scurrying across the oddly shaped obstacle in a hurry to return to their nest. A caterpillar soon appeared on his shoulder, curiously poking at the collar of Oberyn's jerkin. While to some, the sudden onslaught of pests would be unnerving, the young Rosendahl found it splendid. Situated on the coast, the beaches of Nirath proved a stark contrast to the rest of Swynmont. The squishy sand that lined the seaboard was smooth and devoid of impurities. The soil, encouraged by a constant supply of rain, gave birth to trees of grandiose height, along with an army of shrubbery. Even the wood that made up the docks seemed more vibrant on this short span of coastline, something entirely different from the drab and lackluster shades that characterized Swynmont.
Oberyn's pleasant thoughts were interrupted when an imposing mass of flesh lumbered just in front of his hideout, headed towards the harbor.
A perfect target.
The bulbous dockhand began arranging the barrels of freshly-caught fish onto a wooden sled, taking a few moments to ensure that they were roped on tight. The Nirath resident then began ambling back the way he came, tugging the daily catch further inland. Unfortunately for him, he retraced his earlier steps, thrusting him into the pathway of Oberyn's newest contraption.
Perhaps "contraption" was an overstatement. The entire trinket had been devised in less than an hour; having been instructed to board a local seiner and assist the crew on their quotidian voyage, Oberyn elected to bring along various materials in an attempt to ward off the boredom that typically reared its ugly head during fishing trips. After spending three days chasing a feisty young whale, the concept of opening up a net and letting it drag behind a vessel was diminished to something less than mundane.
So he worked and worked, brainstorming and playing and fiddling around until he managed to procure a long and thin knickknack that bore an uncanny resemblance to a common snake. It was this very knickknack that the boy had curled around the branch of a tree, attached to a thin string. As the dockhand passed underneath that very branch, Oberyn gave the rope a sharp tug, the sudden force untangling the "snake" from its hiding spot. Down it flew, damning the unlucky sailor below to an unpleasant welc--
"Are you paying attention?"
Snapping back to the present, the young Rosendahl's chest deflated in a sigh of disappointment. He wasn't in Nirath. He was seated across from his tutor, a map sprawled across the table between them. Geography. His favorite subject.
Last edited:
