GRIMJAW
Sometimes he finds himself missing the swamp that he’d grown up in. There were crocodiles and cannibals, of course, but nothing particularly strange had ever happened to him there. Nothing beyond the floating lights that led a few children into the dark, that is. Even those he had been thoroughly warned about, though. Nothing ever prepared him for strange girls with gems for eyes who might curse him like this.
If they had, would he have grappled with the agony of his bones emerging through his skin? He supposes not. He dismisses the thought, frustrated with the lack of answers and understanding of it all. A slow sigh drags itself from the depths of his lungs as he begins wading through the meadow grasses with stiff, aching strides. There aren’t nearly enough years on this body to move like this but his muscles ache with all the bruising of his crash landing and the new bone armor.
Despite the dry thirst building in his throat, he avoids the river that he crawled out of. He isn’t prepared for the reflection he might see staring back up at him. There is a definite weight of some mask resting across his face and he can see the deep purple of it in the corners of his eyes. It curves beneath his left eye and swoops up and over the right, though there is a hole large enough for him to see easily through. When he runs his tongue over his parched lips, he can feel the sharp edges of the thing there.
It sends a shiver up his spine and turns his stomach.
Maybe this is who he is now. Maybe it can be undone. He isn’t sure, but his priority for now is to understand just where it is he’s wandering now. Grimjaw comes to a stop and shifts his weight. The little barbs running down the length of his spine grit against one another and he cringes at the feeling.
If they had, would he have grappled with the agony of his bones emerging through his skin? He supposes not. He dismisses the thought, frustrated with the lack of answers and understanding of it all. A slow sigh drags itself from the depths of his lungs as he begins wading through the meadow grasses with stiff, aching strides. There aren’t nearly enough years on this body to move like this but his muscles ache with all the bruising of his crash landing and the new bone armor.
Despite the dry thirst building in his throat, he avoids the river that he crawled out of. He isn’t prepared for the reflection he might see staring back up at him. There is a definite weight of some mask resting across his face and he can see the deep purple of it in the corners of his eyes. It curves beneath his left eye and swoops up and over the right, though there is a hole large enough for him to see easily through. When he runs his tongue over his parched lips, he can feel the sharp edges of the thing there.
It sends a shiver up his spine and turns his stomach.
Maybe this is who he is now. Maybe it can be undone. He isn’t sure, but his priority for now is to understand just where it is he’s wandering now. Grimjaw comes to a stop and shifts his weight. The little barbs running down the length of his spine grit against one another and he cringes at the feeling.
@[kahzie]