The sun was far setting over the rolling seas of Isysia, and the sky was far more beautiful than ever before. Rolling colors of red, orange, yellow, and purple were mixed together in a gradient no computer could replicate, while the light reflected off of the dancing waves below.
The tides reached out into the sand as waves crashed onto the shore-- as if battling the shore for its home-- and then retreating back into the vast seas, only to repeat the process once again.
The shore was composed of piles upon piles of sand and rock. Some of the sand had moistened from the rolling tide, yet the rest was dry and loose, quickly sneaking its way into cracks and crevaces when capable.
Embedded into the sand was a trail of footprints. They began far beyond the sunset-- far beyond where the eye could see-- and they reached just as far in the mirrored direction. They left the mark of a foreign man, a stranger in a strange land...
If one was to follow the trail, it would lead them to a figure hidden under a cloak. The cloak started at his neck and ran to his ankles, covering every inch of his body in soft fabric. His feet were covered in a pair of less-formal loafers, ruined from the many, many miles they had traveled; his hands were protected in fingerless gloves, exposing the only bit of skin on his entire body.
This man stood still, his neck turned to his left as he stared out into the ocean. Although covered in the cloak's hood, the light reflected off of his matured face that had seen many, many days. His blue eyes sparkled like the sea that he looked into; they reflected the things he had the grace of viewing in his life. His cheeks were pale, yet they had a hidden warmth in their facade.
"It's going to rain," he spoke quietly to himself. The massive clouds above reflected off of the magnificent gradient of colors, yet their size indicated that they would soon burst. "I should seek shelter before it rains, unless I want to be drenched..."
He turned his neck forward again, continuing his steps. Behind him, his footprints followed loyaly like a shadow, never once ceasing to follow his trail.
A boat, carved from a single tree trunk and shaped like a long canoo cuts through the surface of the ocean. It's smoothed surface gliding across the slightly turbulent water with grace and speed. Cutting onto the beach and imbeding itself in the moist and dry sand alike. From an overview of the vessel lay a man, face up on his back, sprawled out in the limited space. The clothes adorned by the obvious male humanoid was ratty and torn, but still covered his body sufficiantly.
A white shirt material torn to the point it was more of a tank top than whatever it was before, revealing his athletic built arms, though loosly hanging from his body as if a size to big. Covering his lower half waist down was a pair of white tattered, what used to be pants, shorts just covering above his knees. And aside from these limited items, there was nothing else.
Stirring from his coma like slumber, the man slowly rose from the finley crafted boat. As he stepped from the boat and onto the sand, each gain made its way between his toes. But it seemed he wasn't the first to walk on the sand, as his foot stepped into a conflicting foot print. But it went unnoticed by the curious looking man, whom didn't seem old, but at the same time, not young, bording middle aged. Brown ruffled hair sways in the wind and with each step he made his way inland, leaving his own set of footprints that followed him like white on rice.