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+---- Thread: our brothers were kindling ⌖ temp priv (/showthread.php?tid=14887)
our brothers were kindling ⌖ temp priv - cheyne. - 05-24-2021
[align=center][div style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; max-width: 65%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Disjointed. Discombobulated. Confused. Lost.
Too many the words tracing the edge of subconscious thought, those gentle threads beneath the formulated rising unbidden, nestled among patchwork plans as though they the pearl of an oyster. These bore no worth, nonsense merely occupying, a tantalising prospect brief inspected before it fell away, swallowed in the static hum as the next bobbed to the surface. Some were just that, nonsense. Letters strung together into broken syllables, no meaning imparted for they were new, shiny with unimportance, filler.
Nostrils flared, velvet speckled with dwindling moisture and gentle points of glittering frost, breath made opaque. Fine the plume, steam curling and splitting, tongues reaching out only to curl back, dissipating as the seconds passed. Sole companion the entanglement, that hum bearing a finite crackle, the gentle sculpting of a shallow ring. Better than silence, that improbable impossibility. Daunting the beat, that trembling note without cease and yet no tune, the known aspects of life that dispelled such rumoured possibility.
When silent he was reminded he lived. Baggage came along, that callous notion that his existence proceeding the due date, his grave shallow and empty, a yawning mouth awaiting his arrival, did not include addition. Long since lost his voice, the days passing with its degrade, a whisper, harsh as it drew against dry throat, arising in broken displeasure. Alone, utterly so it seemed, here where the world was dusted in frost.
A cruel jest made at his expense, some cosmic retribution enacted for the true intended participation was beyond even a reach that bore no hard edge. Fictional, thoughts swirling, lips bearing shallow smile. Never believed, misunderstood the supposed holy word bound in ebony leather, worship a word spat as though venom laced each syllable. A distraction all it was, a chance to forget. He could not, never allowed. Life refused, crept forth with cruel intent, ever bitter the fortune bestowed.
Unknown the cause, possibly something beneath the fine covering, this blanket of ivory that faded and emerged once more, the earth below as frigid. The pain understood, known, mouth parting about a swallowed gasp. Nothing was there he might do to halt the pitch, forward lean dragging him down as gravity took hold, spindly limbs uncoordinated in their wild motion. Sullen the expression fit over lengthy visage, back ears pressed, a flurry of flakes dancing about in the chill air. The prospect of standing one without reward, viewed the easy way of simply languishing with the snow cradling his frame, this body not his, length limb slow in their inward draw. Velveteen nose pressed between, lost in the crook of joined forelimbs.
Re: our brothers were kindling ⌖ temp priv - Casphian - 05-24-2021
A growl sounded from a stomach, one that seemed to be clawing at its walls craving a good that it has been denied for what feels like forever. The hellhound padded through the woods, head lowered and anger filled orbs sweeping across the area. The pup seemed to be in a constant state of anger and sadness these days, the trauma of what had occurred having not quite settled within the child and leaving him hopeless to the emotions he was drowning in.
The delicious scent of prey crossed his path, muzzle dripping with saliva at the thought of sinking his teeth into the rich flesh of meat. Solsken crept closer to the source of the scent, body lowering to the ground the closer he got and his gaze locking onto his target. His ears pushed forwards, shoulders shuffling slightly before he attempted to lunge at Cheyne, claw outstretched in an attempt to sink into the body of the deer and his jaws aiming for the neck or well anywhere he could bite down on.
The delicious scent of prey crossed his path, muzzle dripping with saliva at the thought of sinking his teeth into the rich flesh of meat. Solsken crept closer to the source of the scent, body lowering to the ground the closer he got and his gaze locking onto his target. His ears pushed forwards, shoulders shuffling slightly before he attempted to lunge at Cheyne, claw outstretched in an attempt to sink into the body of the deer and his jaws aiming for the neck or well anywhere he could bite down on.