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/ please wait for rev to post with candyfloss !! :^)
* ・゚♰ — The journey from the familiar securities and grassy plains of home to here ( wherever here happened to be ) is an exceptionally long and gruelling one, he notes. The sun is particularly unforgiving this evening, harsh rays beating down on his charcoal back, leaving behind red, angry blisters and a burning discomfort that makes him clamp down forcefully on his own tongue. Golden grains of sand lodge themselves between awkwardly large paws, the lack of necessary friction with each, heavy step leaving him a blungering mess as he slides down the dunes with little to no grace. Everything feels hot, dry, and morbidly uncomfortable — a truly dreadful combination, and therefore the abrupt change in scenery comes as somewhat of a relief as the pair grow closer to their destination.
Dark clouds begin to roll overhead, their ominous depths illuminated by the bright crackle and snap of lightning — the obnoxiously loud noise accompanied by a steady drizzle. The atmosphere is unusually humid against the luscious, green thicket, and the lion makes a point of openly grumbling as the ends of his mane steadily begin to curl inward. Not too far behind him he can hear his friend’s — should he even bother to call him that? He was more of a nuisance, really — incessant squawking. Something about the rain and an unnecessary diss on his disheveled appearance, no doubt. He obviously can’t be bothered with the commentary right this moment, and gives a mere chuff of response in place of his usual, irritated retort.
It’s strangely out of character for him to be even the slightest bit tolerant of Candyfloss’ behavior, however he has other things on his mind — vastly more important things — as they trudge through the dense jungle. He wonders for a moment how his adoptive mother is fairing without him, how their beloved King had reacted upon discovering his disappearance. Had the pair who so selflessly raised him after the cruel massacre of his original pride shed tears for him? Had they been completely overcome with grief, thinking something unspeakable had happened to their most treasured child? What about her — the gorgeous lioness with the kind, reassuring eyes and the galaxy splattered across her pelt — did she miss him? It’s enough to leave a knot forming in his throat, the lean muscles beneath his blackened fur tensing with every step, an all too familiar hollowness creaking in his bones, crying out for home. He aches for the familiarity of the savanna, for his people — and yet he can never return, for deep down he knows he is a coward unfit to rule.
He’s quickly pulled out of his own self deprecating cycle by the foreign scent that clings to the muggy air, scattered across the towering trees and soaked along the trodden grounds. A borderline. [color=#354D59]“We’re here.” Cold, seafoam eyes survey the area, ears pricked forward as he comes to a halt behind their markers. Long claws stretch forward, digging into the soil, mildly impatient.
* ・゚♰ — The journey from the familiar securities and grassy plains of home to here ( wherever here happened to be ) is an exceptionally long and gruelling one, he notes. The sun is particularly unforgiving this evening, harsh rays beating down on his charcoal back, leaving behind red, angry blisters and a burning discomfort that makes him clamp down forcefully on his own tongue. Golden grains of sand lodge themselves between awkwardly large paws, the lack of necessary friction with each, heavy step leaving him a blungering mess as he slides down the dunes with little to no grace. Everything feels hot, dry, and morbidly uncomfortable — a truly dreadful combination, and therefore the abrupt change in scenery comes as somewhat of a relief as the pair grow closer to their destination.
Dark clouds begin to roll overhead, their ominous depths illuminated by the bright crackle and snap of lightning — the obnoxiously loud noise accompanied by a steady drizzle. The atmosphere is unusually humid against the luscious, green thicket, and the lion makes a point of openly grumbling as the ends of his mane steadily begin to curl inward. Not too far behind him he can hear his friend’s — should he even bother to call him that? He was more of a nuisance, really — incessant squawking. Something about the rain and an unnecessary diss on his disheveled appearance, no doubt. He obviously can’t be bothered with the commentary right this moment, and gives a mere chuff of response in place of his usual, irritated retort.
It’s strangely out of character for him to be even the slightest bit tolerant of Candyfloss’ behavior, however he has other things on his mind — vastly more important things — as they trudge through the dense jungle. He wonders for a moment how his adoptive mother is fairing without him, how their beloved King had reacted upon discovering his disappearance. Had the pair who so selflessly raised him after the cruel massacre of his original pride shed tears for him? Had they been completely overcome with grief, thinking something unspeakable had happened to their most treasured child? What about her — the gorgeous lioness with the kind, reassuring eyes and the galaxy splattered across her pelt — did she miss him? It’s enough to leave a knot forming in his throat, the lean muscles beneath his blackened fur tensing with every step, an all too familiar hollowness creaking in his bones, crying out for home. He aches for the familiarity of the savanna, for his people — and yet he can never return, for deep down he knows he is a coward unfit to rule.
He’s quickly pulled out of his own self deprecating cycle by the foreign scent that clings to the muggy air, scattered across the towering trees and soaked along the trodden grounds. A borderline. [color=#354D59]“We’re here.” Cold, seafoam eyes survey the area, ears pricked forward as he comes to a halt behind their markers. Long claws stretch forward, digging into the soil, mildly impatient.
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[align=center]❪ YOU ARE A DEMON LIVING IN GLORIOUS EDEN ❫[div style="width:446px;font-size:6.3pt;line-height:1.3;font-family:arial;margin-top:2px;margin-bottom:1.0px; text-shadow: 0px 7px 7px dimgrey; letter-spacing:.2px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify"][color=#354D59]❝ WALKING AMONG REAL ANGELS. PAINTING YOUR LIPS WITH THE LIE THAT YOU ARE HOLY. HOPING THAT IF YOU EVER BLEED, YOUR BLOOD WILL BE GOLD INSTEAD OF BLACK. AND YOU KNOW THAT THEIR BLOOD IS GOLD, DON'T YOU? BECAUSE YOU HAVE WATCHED THEIR BROTHERS AND SISTERS BLEED. YOU HAVE FELT THEIR WINGS UNDER YOUR CLAWS AND THEIR NECKS UNDER YOUR TEETH AND THEIR INCHOR UNDER YOUR TONGUE. YOU HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN THE TASTE OF HONEY-SWEET BLOOD. THEY CALL YOU SAVIOR, NOT REALIZING THEY'VE ADOPTED A MONSTER. AND WHEN THEY TOUCH YOU, YOU HAVE TO BITE BACK SCREAMS. BECAUSE NEVER HAS HEAVEN'S TOUCH FELT LIKE A COCKTAIL OF AGONY AND EUPHORIA. ❞