Synth
Synth
Synth
Her heart clunks, as heavy and monotonous as a cogwheel. She is sure she hears its worn squeak and tastes the metallic rust upon her tongue. Each step, contrary to the heavy thumping of her heart, is fluid and effortless. She is swift, for her limbs, lost beneath the sea of grass stems, work rapidly to drive her torso through the grasses. She glides like a ship, her skin a silver white that gleams like polished steel.
Metallic blue eyes, sharp as scythe, gleam with a danger as deep as the ocean. Her skull tilts up to catch her eyes that have already drifted to follow the path of a startled bird. The creature had broken from the canopy of twigs beneath which it lay and taken to the sky like a wayward kite. She watches its path, a solitary ear twisting forward to catch its startled cry. Lips, as black as the thoughts that plague her mind, curl into a soft, beautiful smile. Beneath her foot, tail feathers of pink and blue lie, plucked from their host too soon.
Oh, do not be deceived dear reader, the girl does not know to fear the dark shadows that linger in the depths of her mind and heart. She does not know as they billow out, that within their core lies emotions she should fear to feel. They are potent and heady and she is the creature of habit. She is their user, drunk on their intoxicating high. Anger, curiosity, lust, mirth... they make for dirty, unwanted bedfellows.
Curiosity drove her foot to catch the bird before it fled, but alas, all she is left with are the beautiful colours that adorn its lost feathers. She sighs, and it is a soft little thing, whimsical and delicate. She mourns for the bird and its parted feathers, yet she sighs for she could not catch it. She is hungry, our dear little Synth, hungry for knowledge and yet so ignorant. She is not educated, she knows no manners, she feels too little empathy and she is impulsive and responsive to her own desires.
Oh my little unloved Synth, where have you been to be so uneducated? But most of all, where, oh where, are you now?
Synth
Synth
Her heart clunks, as heavy and monotonous as a cogwheel. She is sure she hears its worn squeak and tastes the metallic rust upon her tongue. Each step, contrary to the heavy thumping of her heart, is fluid and effortless. She is swift, for her limbs, lost beneath the sea of grass stems, work rapidly to drive her torso through the grasses. She glides like a ship, her skin a silver white that gleams like polished steel.
Metallic blue eyes, sharp as scythe, gleam with a danger as deep as the ocean. Her skull tilts up to catch her eyes that have already drifted to follow the path of a startled bird. The creature had broken from the canopy of twigs beneath which it lay and taken to the sky like a wayward kite. She watches its path, a solitary ear twisting forward to catch its startled cry. Lips, as black as the thoughts that plague her mind, curl into a soft, beautiful smile. Beneath her foot, tail feathers of pink and blue lie, plucked from their host too soon.
Oh, do not be deceived dear reader, the girl does not know to fear the dark shadows that linger in the depths of her mind and heart. She does not know as they billow out, that within their core lies emotions she should fear to feel. They are potent and heady and she is the creature of habit. She is their user, drunk on their intoxicating high. Anger, curiosity, lust, mirth... they make for dirty, unwanted bedfellows.
Curiosity drove her foot to catch the bird before it fled, but alas, all she is left with are the beautiful colours that adorn its lost feathers. She sighs, and it is a soft little thing, whimsical and delicate. She mourns for the bird and its parted feathers, yet she sighs for she could not catch it. She is hungry, our dear little Synth, hungry for knowledge and yet so ignorant. She is not educated, she knows no manners, she feels too little empathy and she is impulsive and responsive to her own desires.
Oh my little unloved Synth, where have you been to be so uneducated? But most of all, where, oh where, are you now?