11-10-2021, 08:52 PM
He learned very quickly what being near him did to others. They all began to wither just as his mother had - weeping, ravenous for the warmth of summer and joy. So he also learned to stay away and keep to the edges of the world where he couldn’t hurt anyone at all. Desire had extended her beautiful hand and he had been terrified by the simple gesture. What if he managed to cripple even beauty like hers?
And so he left Pangea, tail tucked and head low. And he’s gotten so good at playing the role of the stray dog. He licks at scraps of agony or fury and he is content to sleep alone in the snow. It comes naturally when it is all he’s ever granted himself. Of course, Nazghul notices the way his ribs protrude more than others his age and the notches of his spine can be counted easier than maybe they should. But his golden eyes shine like fire in the sun, don’t they? His claws and fangs are as sharp as he needs. What more does this body need than this?
He assures himself he is wealthy in this way. Others have dull teeth and blunt hooves!
(Others have a partner or a family to hold in the night. Others have lapses in their solitude.)
The yearling boy shakes the thought from his head. No, there is no room for that self-pitying here. He snorts and picks up an easy trot on dirty paws. His thin, ink-black body slips between the trees and leaves hardly a print in the snow as he wanders. Surely a hunt will free him of these awful ideas.
NazghuL
i have not written in months so this is VERY BAD but i've been listening to hozier nonstop and it makes me wanna write.