i'd apologise for bleeding on your shirt; {Lights}

[Eld]

OOC: Let's give this nicey nicey a try xD

the truth is you could slit my throat; Some of us crash land, some of us eject. When faced with the raw exposure of your heart strings, the strong beating organ in your chest, most run a mile in the other way. I, I apologised with a stammering tongue, my chest heaving with the burden of life's questions. My mind as heavy as rain sodden mane, which was very much the case this afternoon. My long twists of red, were heavy, burdensome as they clung to my thickset neck. The rain was the autumn's cool touch, but felt like needles penetrating my red roan body. I shivered, every fibre of my being cold, icy to the touch. That is what you get, when you decide to up and leave, disappear like a magic act from your life before. It wasn't much life. I was born, I lived in the heralded with my sire and come the age of three winters, I was pushed from the quaint little clearing and thrust into the cold, harsh world. And here I was, with some paintbrush trying in vain attempts to paint my future, with a lot more colour than it was before. The autumnal colours were enticing; browns, oranges and warm golds. They merged with my own red coat as I strolled through the outskirts of the field, my heavy feathered limbs attracting debris from the decaying leaves, the wet mud underfoot and the dry grass, loose from the harsh summer's final heat spell. My vast body, a mountainous tree, hardly glided across the loam. It was more of a squash here, a throw a limb there. I was hardly the most elegant ballerina in the world; I'm sure if I attempted a graceful pirouette the ground would cave in, or I would intimately end up flying into someone. These limbs of mine, they were clumsy and uncoordinated most of the time. You could say I was still growing into them. The cold rain blows against me, the wind driving a forceful gale, bitter like ice against my skin, numbing my bones right down to the marrow. I sure picked a day to attempt this new start. Why couldn't I have ventured here in the height of summer? No. I would have still been unhappy with my decision, it would have been too hot. My thick feathered legs pound onward, the wet earth sinking beneath me. Shaking my crown, I dishevel the heavy mass of hair and end up hiding behind a sodden curtain of red, my green eyes lost underneath it all. I snort, a billowing breath that coils out in a swift cloud. That's just great, I'm a giant soaking mess, who would even notice me in the autumnal blanket of red and gold, anyway? I give up walking then, my legs tired, the wet ground sinking beneath me straining every inch of my muscles. It's been a long venture, I feel it in my spine, but not so much as the devilish ache in my joints. I stop, halt right in the centre of the field and decide to stand there and let the wind billow into me, torrents of bullet rain striking me with a harsh hand. It's probably my fault it's raining. It's always my fault. and i'd apologise for bleeding on your shirt;