08-05-2018, 09:36 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 230px; font-family: georgia; color: #7b8189; font-size: 10px; text-align: center;line-height: 110%; padding-top:10px; padding-bottom:10px"]i'll never get to heaven cause i don't know how
It seems Aita was counted amongst the lucky few who had not been present when Pincher had succumbed to the chill touch of death, even a temporary status enough to leave scars the like of which time may never touch, left to fester and grow worse until the mind is prepared to handle it once more to permit the healing process. Yet such could never quite escape even a child for signs of something were written upon many, a heavy weight which bore down upon a certain few while others seemed to shoulder it with ease, the way Goldie handled herself enough to speak of how heavy a burden this was upon her.
Though they moved their belongs to a tree house to be closer to their teachers such a distance had done little to wear at their want to be close to the ocean, to hear the gentle lull of it within those still moments or the more thunderous sound as the waves crashed upon the shore. Small paws shuffled through the wet sand, dragging steps speaking of their own fatigue, sleep given little mind though their own reasoning found root in more private matters. For a time the voices escaped them, little more than hushed sounds upon the wind their mind put no importance to, until one in particular reached them.
The gaze which turned towards the assembled few was blurry, but shapes and smears of colour struggling to come together into what seemed illegible shapes, a soft sound of confusion rising with their next exhale. “Goldie,” it is a soft murmur barely moving their lips when the dark bengal finally makes their own approach, eyes widening as they look upon her, filled with something they had felt only in moments they were alone – fear.
There is much they want to say, the words lingering upon the edge of their tongue yet they seemed incapable of speaking once more, feeling the prickle of tears build within their eyes they struggle to hold back. In place of words they reach out one paw and try to place it atop Goldie's, hoping the gesture offers her some small comfort.
Though they moved their belongs to a tree house to be closer to their teachers such a distance had done little to wear at their want to be close to the ocean, to hear the gentle lull of it within those still moments or the more thunderous sound as the waves crashed upon the shore. Small paws shuffled through the wet sand, dragging steps speaking of their own fatigue, sleep given little mind though their own reasoning found root in more private matters. For a time the voices escaped them, little more than hushed sounds upon the wind their mind put no importance to, until one in particular reached them.
The gaze which turned towards the assembled few was blurry, but shapes and smears of colour struggling to come together into what seemed illegible shapes, a soft sound of confusion rising with their next exhale. “Goldie,” it is a soft murmur barely moving their lips when the dark bengal finally makes their own approach, eyes widening as they look upon her, filled with something they had felt only in moments they were alone – fear.
There is much they want to say, the words lingering upon the edge of their tongue yet they seemed incapable of speaking once more, feeling the prickle of tears build within their eyes they struggle to hold back. In place of words they reach out one paw and try to place it atop Goldie's, hoping the gesture offers her some small comfort.
the tyhpoon — sage — tags