[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: georgia; color: #664b4a; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 12px;"]NEVER GETS ANY BETTER, ONLY GETS WORSE

Fickle. A silver shackle bore without reservation, concept made human and thus digestible. Would it bear the same weight held aloft with careless ease, befitting and all the while further unnatural for how the tongues that made it so too crafted the bearer, if they were not present. Possibly, or it may have been free without name or descriptor, a fragment of existence with purpose and no shackles to deem it understandable.

The burden made and thus beared by them, fickle the life that gave it and thus honed it until it may fit something so much grander. Of course, he too was complicit in the use, bore some understanding of time and the passage it wrought, a product of the past shaping the present as he wished it to be. Could he say he understood, truly and wholly, that they knew as time. No, he could not speak such in full faith that his truth was an absolute, yet still he may try.

A cruel and volatile mistress, hungry for that which began and drew to an end, the strings plucked with abandon. Too human this, a life it did not deserve embedded in the trickle of seconds, a passage marked for they deemed it necessary. Was it truly as they described it or something more. Fickle the answers he may ascribe, gone from his mind now, unnecessary as night waned, drowned in the heightened activity of a quickened mind roused from slumber at a time he was accustomed to.

As those who had departed prior no stranger was he to dreams, nor their brethren found in nightmares, a tool as misunderstood as time though named they both by beings such as they. He knew them as fragments of the past, events that transpired a time too long ago to recall the days, recorded now only as jumbled scenes poorly pieced together. Best this way, possibly, that he recall and the history books did not. Allow only him to carry the shame, know the cruelty time had buried. Such was not to say he handled it well, rather the contrary, exhaustion evident in the darkness that hung below barely opened eyes.

Abandoned the notion of staying, known now that sleep would not come no matter how he wished it to and best utilised his time in worthwhile pursuits. This, too, put aside as his progress was halted not too far into the golden veil of spreading illumination, vision filled with two figures, known both of within rudimentary ways. Enjoyed the presence of Aesior, heightened his opinion for his silent nature, though the matter of it not being via choice one that allowed a faint curiosity to grow. The other, a child and one often deemed prey, further intriguing. Unlike some he bore no interest in the status he held, no wrongfully given for intelligent was he, more so than some Vincent may name with ease, he did not care to baby and protect the rabbit, however. His choice to come here, to linger amongst predators that sought his blood, and thus the consequences were his to face.

Brief the moment put towards weighing his options, final decision largely arrived upon for he had been driven to this land in a bid to find company and avoiding it was counter-productive. Silent his approach, the query posed by Fragglerock barely caught but one he lingered on. "I hope I'm not interrupting." Quiet his words when finally his momentum drew to a halt, deciding it best to maintain some distance, the warmth of the thinning grass lined terrain pleasant, too little time spent in the sun for he often suffered averse effects he'd much rather avoid where possible.

© MADI

[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: georgia; color: #664b4a; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 12px;"]NEVER GETS ANY BETTER, ONLY GETS WORSE

Once there had been a time, when upon him still was a childhood at least somewhat given to moments or naive curiosity satiated without any due thought to consequences, he had longed to be something more. Numerous the books in which read stories of those that ascended their mortal status, held within them a well of power that may be utilised in numerous fashions, always most intriguing those that may pry into the very mind. Mayhaps it best he lacked such averse effects common enough without, to know the thoughts of another a weight he would break beneath.

Or it may be a soothing balm to know, though hardly a blip upon his own radar as he was upon hers, the little impression Cleopatra bore of him was negative.

Lax had grown his posture as the seconds trickled past, chin raised as lavender depths diminished, slow the closure of lids. Fleeting the sigh that traced his lips, the warmth of the growing light at such a point worry was far from his mind. Always must an end be expected, no matter how she conducted herself almost instantaneous the change, sour grown the moment that seemed near enough perfect he may readily describe it as such. Narrowed the fine slither revealed between barely parted lids, her query one rather idiotic. Simple the answer she sought, one readily apparent should she engage her mind, though it seemed largely reserved for vitriol undeserved.

Unnecessary any answer he must give, the chance taken as another approached, voice smooth and lacking a bite he sorely wished it may hold. Of course it might not, the opinion of the vanguard one made apparent by the title Cleopatra bore, though he held no qualms with deeming her undeserving when her peer performed at a leave she did not. Unnecessary further time wasted upon her and about his vision turned, once more off guard caught. Surely by now he would have grown accustomed to the easy smile that often adorned Aesior's countenance, yet each only further addition to a curiosity he buried.

A stranger to kindness, to a manner gentle and endlessly sweet, touched by the cruelty life gives with too much fervour and yet maintained. Chin fell in a nod, preferred this wordless greeting, all the same brightened lavender by something he might not give a name as dismissed his worry. Short the life it was given, however, beneath confusion swallowed, quick the follow up that brought a stifled chuckle forth. Well he knew the first touches of attraction, not to a point affection may bloom within the fertile ground between. Not unkind was he and thus he would not speak in the manner Aesior grew blatant, unknowing in how his audience may well easily identify his behaviour, rather answered the previous query.

"Hunting, most likely, it has been too long since I had eggs and now is a good time for them." Matter of fact his tone, eyes turning away and once more his lids fell shut. There was the issue of locating a place that may prove suitable, he knew of some birds that nested in such terrain, though such a roadblock he would come to when it was time, the day new and the prospect tantalising enough to try.

© MADI