02-14-2016, 05:49 PM
everyone i know goes away in the end
The hot summer air filled his lungs with a vast array of pollutants and allergens, agitating the soft lining of his esophagus as he inhaled. The bristling heat stung at his skin, evoking a sheen of sweat that trickled down along the various scars on his otherwise unmarred obsidian pelt. He pushed forward, his mass parting the sea of wheat that sway and lap against his damp skin in the warm breeze. He is taller, bulkier and more heavily armed than the rest - his form is noticeable from miles away, a beast of sable standing out against the stark beige terrain. Each step feels heavier, throttling the ground beneath his shifting weight, sediment rattling along as each movement leaves a weighty, lasting impression in the soil.
He finds it difficult to focus in the heat; he could not fathom why he had decided to abandon the icy cold embrace of the Tundra in the midst of the smoldering summer afternoon. He had grown restless, desiring something more to do with this lingering day. He had seen many more like it, and the longer he lived, the longer he breathed, the more restless and uncertain he felt about it all. Many spend their lives waiting to die; what did he have to wait for? There was no fear of his demise to be found - if anything, he wondered if or how he would come to an end. Would he be forced to walk this earth until its inevitable, untimely destruction? Would he ever deteriorate or waste away? Or would he remain a constant fixture, no different than the boulders that line land or the ebb and flow of the waters at the edge of the sea?
He did not know.
And not knowing was the worst part.
He shakes himself of his darkening thoughts, feeling their heavy pull at his mind. He finally stops, the muscles rippling beneath his dark coat as he shifts his weight from one forelimb to another. He listens to the stagnant silence of the field, to the faint buzz of insects as they are procreating, oscillating, consuming, to .. a rumbling rustle.
His dark crimson eyes scan the terrain, searching for the source of the vibration, finding a mass similar to his own stalking through the golden tendrils of wheat. He steps closer, peering carefully at the undoubtedly agitated male. He can see the stain of blood staining his dark pelt, along with the wound it has stemmed from. He was awkward, cumbersome and clumsy, but he could not blame him - he was newly blinded, he could see that much. He looked pained, physically and emotionally, his entire demeanor shifting from one moment to the next.
He thought for a moment of turning away, of giving him a moment of peace - but something within him beckons him forward. He is uncertain of the persona tucked away beneath his emotional turmoil, and does not know if he will become violent, but their size is nearly matched. He braces himself for the possible bloodshed, but his voice breaks through the thick tension of summer, hopeful for a less catastrophic interaction.
"You, there - are you all right?" His voice rumbles from deep within the confines of his chest, his gaze trailing along the dried, matted and bloodied locks that stick to his sweat-drenched nape.
offspring
