02-24-2016, 05:44 PM
THIS WAY, OR NO WAY, YOU KNOW I'LL BE FREE
Enchanting was the single, solitary word that rolled through his otherwise vacant mind, like a glimmering tumbleweed carried by a gentle breeze. He had lost himself for a long moment in the silence of his journey, comforted by the shifting scenery as he pressed forward through the thicket. Having traveled several hours through the barren meadows, he had grown numb to the icy temperatures that laced through the lands, intertwining with the empty branches of drying deciduous trees and wilting the sparse blossoms that had managed to survive the depths of autumn. Winter was upon them, and the looming, folding clouds overhead hinted to a season more dangerous and insidious than the rest. The bristling breeze slid up along his fragile wings of chitlin, stirring the scales that linger on his skin and along the plane of his wings. He moves forward, silent but launched into thought, still enamored with the way winter's graying atmosphere enveloped the otherwise picturesque landscape.
His compound eyes gaze towards the golden female flanked by his side; he observes her as the image pieces together, creating a jagged but nonetheless beautiful image of her shape and otherwise graceful movement. The quiet that lingers between he and Cress is not altogether restless. Though the unseen clock ticks away as the sun slowly begins to descend below the horizon, the long expanse of time spent silently in her presence does not seemingly unnerve her. He is unusual, knows this. The way his six limbs - four forelegs and two hindlegs - shift and slink forward is refined but eerie. He creeps forward smoothly but with the fluidity of a crawling insect, which has made and will make many uncomfortable. His eyes do not often express the emotion that his voice is capable of doing, and so he is often stoic and not easily read. His jaw is more sallow than the others; sunken in, for he does not need the same set of teeth that the others have.
He is uncomfortable to look at, but not difficult to speak to. It has its advantages and disadvantages.
Elysium pauses for a moment, his limbs simultaneously coming to a stop as he peers out across the devastatingly breathtaking waterfall that speaks as the centerpiece of the valley. Below are two figures; an alabaster and bronze male and a female of burnt sienna and salmon. Alone, they stand, immersed in conversation. He had heard of an exchanging of the crown, but rumors were only that. He takes a long, hard look at Cress, nodding to her as he remains rooted. He does not want to intrude, nor offend. So he waits.
Elysium
equus lepidoptera, student of the valley