07-30-2016, 07:21 PM
PHAEDRUS
If he ever thought that the world is bad in this moment, then he has a big surprise in store for him in the near future. The Deserts would disappear, he would have grooves of missing flesh on two of his ribs, Sheba would be gone. Her words bite out at him targeting his pride, instigation is not something that he is used to having as a part of his character. He bites back a sordid remark, feeling the regret of his actions, and remembering how the antagonism had worked out for him last time. She interrupts his thoughts and he holds back another smirk. Like what? feigning innocence he looks her in the eye, wondering if she would be so brave as to say what had just occurred in that moment, or if she had the same thoughts on her own mind. His ears perk forward intent on catching every little nuance she offers him.
In a moment, she is vulnerable, and a raw undefinable part of her is there tugging at his desire to protect. He cannot resist the greeting, keeping his eyes trained on hers he sighs out the air from his lungs, taking in her essence to replace his air, he tastes the lush flavors of lush green, rich dirt, wet heat, and a refreshing wildness that he had come to associate with the Jungle. He takes in the pieces of her soul that she shares with him through her eyes. They stand there, the air tickles at his mane, it rustles his feathers, kissing at his skin. For a moment he is lost, he is lost in the moment, to time, to the world, to all the burdens of the kingdoms, to his own thoughts, and they are there. There where there is nothing, were nothing is everything, and everything is weightless, even beautiful at times, it swirls around them, like colors painted on the northern sky, creating a low tune that only the wind could seduce.
The nothingness takes shape it becomes something pressing, and full of color, it builds, it grows, it twines around itself faster, its chaos. He releases the word, her name, and suddenly all that is left is the black, empty, nothingness. She presses him, presses him in just the right way for what he needed, no wanted to ask her, to take shape and become palpable words on his tongue. I just wonder at what could have happened in the Dale, for you to hate it so much that you would run away from anything associated with it. He had been puzzling over her stay, over each word, over each look, over every small detail that he could remember. Even as much as he has no desire to do so, in a brooding mind, with few puzzles to solve, this one had consumed all the empty space. His own tragic story would probably be easily relatable for her, dare he share it? He had never shared it, no one knew the troubles of being gifted, yet not gifted enough.
He offers enough time for her to answer and whatever follows to occur, that is of course if she chose to answer at all, after which he attempts a smile for her shaking the moment off, hoping to give her a small peace offering through it. I am on my way to the jungle if you would like to join me? His tail flicks and his wings flutter, the sadness probably would always burden him, maybe that is why his broody behavior always comes off as a bit arrogant, especially with the strong confident gate of a soldier ensues, or the rigid stance he takes when not moving. He couldn’t say for certain, just that he wondered if disappointing is his allotted title in life. There are moments where he can believe that, that can change. Like when he got the promotion, or when he won his battles, but then he remembers the look of disappointment on others faces, like hers, and he remembers his place. Never get your hopes up to high.
In a moment, she is vulnerable, and a raw undefinable part of her is there tugging at his desire to protect. He cannot resist the greeting, keeping his eyes trained on hers he sighs out the air from his lungs, taking in her essence to replace his air, he tastes the lush flavors of lush green, rich dirt, wet heat, and a refreshing wildness that he had come to associate with the Jungle. He takes in the pieces of her soul that she shares with him through her eyes. They stand there, the air tickles at his mane, it rustles his feathers, kissing at his skin. For a moment he is lost, he is lost in the moment, to time, to the world, to all the burdens of the kingdoms, to his own thoughts, and they are there. There where there is nothing, were nothing is everything, and everything is weightless, even beautiful at times, it swirls around them, like colors painted on the northern sky, creating a low tune that only the wind could seduce.
The nothingness takes shape it becomes something pressing, and full of color, it builds, it grows, it twines around itself faster, its chaos. He releases the word, her name, and suddenly all that is left is the black, empty, nothingness. She presses him, presses him in just the right way for what he needed, no wanted to ask her, to take shape and become palpable words on his tongue. I just wonder at what could have happened in the Dale, for you to hate it so much that you would run away from anything associated with it. He had been puzzling over her stay, over each word, over each look, over every small detail that he could remember. Even as much as he has no desire to do so, in a brooding mind, with few puzzles to solve, this one had consumed all the empty space. His own tragic story would probably be easily relatable for her, dare he share it? He had never shared it, no one knew the troubles of being gifted, yet not gifted enough.
He offers enough time for her to answer and whatever follows to occur, that is of course if she chose to answer at all, after which he attempts a smile for her shaking the moment off, hoping to give her a small peace offering through it. I am on my way to the jungle if you would like to join me? His tail flicks and his wings flutter, the sadness probably would always burden him, maybe that is why his broody behavior always comes off as a bit arrogant, especially with the strong confident gate of a soldier ensues, or the rigid stance he takes when not moving. He couldn’t say for certain, just that he wondered if disappointing is his allotted title in life. There are moments where he can believe that, that can change. Like when he got the promotion, or when he won his battles, but then he remembers the look of disappointment on others faces, like hers, and he remembers his place. Never get your hopes up to high.
i'll carry this flag, to the grave if i must
@[riva]
So sorry this took so long.