Post by Garth on Jul 27, 2020 20:01:44 GMT -5
Location(s): Curry Lighthouse, Amnesty Bay, Maine
Time of Day: Mid-morning
Weather: Fair, windy
Summary: Following his rescue from death and regeneration at the hands of his people, Garth sets out to reconnect with the only real family he's ever known...
The muscles in his legs strained, propelling him through the depths. He marveled at the familiarity, the muscle memory. The body, he understood, that his soul sheltered in was the same one that'd been his all his life. To most Garth's return to life was a resurrection, but that wasn't entirely true. The rituals that had spared him, set into place by his birth-mother, Queen Berra, had snatched the matter of his being molecule-by-molecule, just like it'd captured his spirit before it could fade.
Rebuilding his body had taken weeks and months, carefully and privately overseen by Berra. But he had awoke, in the heart of those orbiting mystic diagrams and powerful, ancient magicks. Days wore on after he regained consciousness while the spells finished bringing him back into being, then more beyond that were fed into going through rigors and tests to make sure all was well. The entire time Garth's heart ached, wanting to find his surrogate family, to discover what had happened in his absence - to tell them he was all right.
But his ancestral home in the Hidden Valley, and his people by blood were private and cautious. To honor this, Garth had nurtured his patience and coaxed it to deepen. Queen Berra had understood and empathized, and to placate him, she used her resources to locate those important to him. And it was the day that Arthur and Mera's location was delivered to him that he fled Hidden Valley, almost at once. Because when he had been slain during Nekron and the Black Lantern Corps's attack on earth, Arthur had been in the grave.
He was no longer.
Garth grit his teeth. The power of his limbs wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly enough. His eyes flickered and shone like lanterns of lavender light. The sea folded around him, shunting him along. Faster, faster, faster. The depths lightened like a coming sunrise on the surface. And, with one last push, Garth was sent rocketing out of the waves into the open air. The coast shimmered in front of him; a craggy cliff crowned with a weathered, but proud lighthouse and attached house. Garth landed on the crumbling, sheer rocky edge at the border of that house's property, chest heaving, saltwater speckling the earth around him.
The Atlantean blinked up at the blond man standing on the porch. His violet eyes watered. His throat squeezed almost closed with emotion. "Arthur?" he asked, and he almost refused to believe the truth could be so good, even though his oldest friend and father figure stood before him.
(OOC: Let me know if anything needs changing!)