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+----- Thread: ( maybe I'm too old / playerone ) (/showthread.php?tid=13924)
( maybe I'm too old / playerone ) - Grimm - 01-28-2021
[div style="margin: auto; max-width: 475px; padding: 5%; min-height: 20px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 17px;"]War devours all.
Change may visit upon concept loose and malleable, as susceptible to time as any encompassed in the fragile state of existence, yet core remains untouched. A hungry beast it, the beating drums echoing with a hollow note, blood sought where destruction is wrought. He knew it well, tasted the ash as searing heat scoured unprotected skin, how blood drips ever slowly until his mouth seems full with rivers that may never end, the cries a cacophony always in his head. Yet the young ones, the generation that necessitated the war by virtue of securing their safety, clamoured for it.
He had grown tired. The dusk of his life was well within hand, too many the years passed, a tally he cared not to keep yet was dutiful in doing so, carved each atrocity he had performed into failing memory. Unannounced his departure, the grisly mess of partially picked apart head that gazed with empty sockets now across land sought total supremacy over turning his stomach, the only one to look after. Far from permanent, taken his fill of a life lead in solitude, a chance to clear his head all this was.
Little his notice of the distance, tracks lined with rust edging overgrown bank fallen behind, the mild chill amplified. No fickle presence noticeable only upon a particularly foul day winter here where the settled snow announced his every step, plumes of most leaving a faint dampness behind as it grazed his muzzle. Familiar all the same, known in a manner that drew contented sigh even as his joints ached, stiff with the invasion, the cold pressing close and seeking any gap in dense covering. It was found when he settled among the gathered grains, resting for only a moment, such thought all he carried as forth a paw stretched.
Mindless each, unpractised the twist of wrist, uncoordinated each dark length, the pleasure of the act simply enough. In this task, simple as it seemed, he was engrossed, yet about rounded ears swivelled. Always on alert, a soldier once and ingrained those habits once sworn off. For the moment merely taken his pleasure from the small clearing, a dense blanket he scrawled messy pictures into.
[member=2426]Playerone Kennedy[/member]