[size=9pt]He'd seen some weird shit in these fields.
Sit for a while and watch, and the world will morph itself around you and give you a show. At least, that's what happens whenever Moon finds the tha-dump of his heart too much, claustrophobic in his chest and bouncing off the walls like a caged bird. His mind will pick up speed too fast and start propelling thoughts at him at a thousand miles an hour 'till he's got his jaw set so tight he chips his tooth and all there is is a thick, spasming paranoia sitting happy in his veins until he's managed to reach the fields.
And then, usually, it goes away. Usually the scent of flowers seeps into his senses and he remembers how he hates the smell of Sweet Peas and Roses. Or he'll hear a rustling in the undergrowth and out will come Edgar, nose twitching in the air. Today, though, he's got a cold and he's not smelling nothing, and Edgar is nowhere to be seen, either. But this world has a habit of not letting him have a moment's peace.
"Think they call that a green thumb," Says the lion, watching her press against the ground and have a flower spurt up in its place. "Green paw. Whatever." He corrects. His golden, scarred maw opens wide in a yawn that coats his words. "Doesn't matter. What're you doing with your jaws full of our scenery, stranger? Leave some for the natives."
Sit for a while and watch, and the world will morph itself around you and give you a show. At least, that's what happens whenever Moon finds the tha-dump of his heart too much, claustrophobic in his chest and bouncing off the walls like a caged bird. His mind will pick up speed too fast and start propelling thoughts at him at a thousand miles an hour 'till he's got his jaw set so tight he chips his tooth and all there is is a thick, spasming paranoia sitting happy in his veins until he's managed to reach the fields.
And then, usually, it goes away. Usually the scent of flowers seeps into his senses and he remembers how he hates the smell of Sweet Peas and Roses. Or he'll hear a rustling in the undergrowth and out will come Edgar, nose twitching in the air. Today, though, he's got a cold and he's not smelling nothing, and Edgar is nowhere to be seen, either. But this world has a habit of not letting him have a moment's peace.
"Think they call that a green thumb," Says the lion, watching her press against the ground and have a flower spurt up in its place. "Green paw. Whatever." He corrects. His golden, scarred maw opens wide in a yawn that coats his words. "Doesn't matter. What're you doing with your jaws full of our scenery, stranger? Leave some for the natives."
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]