08-14-2018, 06:41 PM
[align=center][div style="width:400px; font-size:8pt;line-height:1.1;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]He knew the hunger, the burning pain as thought nails burning white hot had been hammered into the lining of the stomach, digging deeper as time wore on, begging for respite that might never come. How long had it been since the child had fed, indulged on anything that wasn't the fruit and vegetables he had been attempting to once more settle his diet around? At the least two weeks, each offer waved away for he never wanted to feel skin break beneath his teeth, another hurt because he needed to sustain himself, and so went about his existence with those nails in his gut.
Gentle was the sound which rose from Harland, small steps bringing him along just behind Moon, a tiny living shadow. Easy was it to tell another, the metallic tang of blood seemed about yet it was wrong, dark and rotting, as though touched with infection, confusion twisting his soft features into a frown. He knew only of Margaery and Suiteheart, both holding that smell of rotting blood though it was sweetened, grown light for they indulged their hunger, never allowed themselves to starve as this stranger seemed to. Skirting around the Halo the small child approached Nero, hesitance within each step for he was unsure on how he would be received, shuffling closer.
“You okay,” gentle was his voice, lips curling into a slight smile as he reached out to try and gently place a paw upon Nero's leg, an act meant to comfort. He knew not of what had happened but the sorrow within the other's words, in the way he spoke of losing control, it left him wanting to do what he could to offer some peace, knowing some small fraction of what Nero was going through.
Gentle was the sound which rose from Harland, small steps bringing him along just behind Moon, a tiny living shadow. Easy was it to tell another, the metallic tang of blood seemed about yet it was wrong, dark and rotting, as though touched with infection, confusion twisting his soft features into a frown. He knew only of Margaery and Suiteheart, both holding that smell of rotting blood though it was sweetened, grown light for they indulged their hunger, never allowed themselves to starve as this stranger seemed to. Skirting around the Halo the small child approached Nero, hesitance within each step for he was unsure on how he would be received, shuffling closer.
“You okay,” gentle was his voice, lips curling into a slight smile as he reached out to try and gently place a paw upon Nero's leg, an act meant to comfort. He knew not of what had happened but the sorrow within the other's words, in the way he spoke of losing control, it left him wanting to do what he could to offer some peace, knowing some small fraction of what Nero was going through.