look up here now; i'm in heaven. i've got scars that can't be seen.

  The frigid air threads itself along his delicate, fragile wings, brushing a small fraction of his sensitive scales away with each new wave of wind. It trails along his spine, causing him to shiver involuntarily, shifting his six legs slightly beneath himself. His dark eyes peer out into the darkness, though it is brilliant and well-lit for him, for his complex eyesight can see much more than the average eye. He can piece together the image of the moonlight glimmering along the heavy, untouched layer of snow, the faint variance in ice-encased foliage across the landscape, and finally the trickling brook trailing through the soil. 

   The water gently ripples and pools over the smooth stones beneath the surface; a solace to his tender hearing. He savors the simplicity of night and the quiet that follows. The bright light from the moon bathes his mottled champagne skin, dousing him with a reflective light that both illuminates and invigorates him.

    It is at night when he feels most alive.

   He steps forward - he is graceful, if nothing else, with his four forelegs and two hind legs - lowering his neck to taste the sweet, pristine pureness of untouched snow across his proboscis. He often draws various greens into his gullet, but he longs for the nectar of blossoming fauna and aches for an end to yet another harsh, unyielding winter. He cannot close his eyes, for he has no eyelids to shield them with, but he allows himself to lose his focus as the wind moves with ease through the valley, bounding off of the heavy boulders, dense pine and looming mountains. Everything becomes a blur. The night sky, the gentle breeze and the icy caress of winter envelopes him fully, and he loses himself within its embrace.

   At last, he stirs - the light crunching of snowfall beneath the weight of another stirring him from his reverie. It takes him a long moment to focus, but finally, he is able to piece her familiar form together. Slender, beautiful and gleaming beneath the moonlight, she is a sight to behold - and with precision and grace, he dips his chin towards the ground in a sign of respect, his antennae following and bouncing slightly above his ridged brow.

   "My Queen - you are up late tonight, and alone," He muses softly, his voice svelte but rough around the edges from disuse. "is there something on your mind?"

   It is only a matter of time until she invades his own, and he welcomes it - he has nothing to hide.

elysium

this way or no way, i'll be free.