10-09-2018, 11:37 PM
[align=center][div style="width:450px; font-size:7.9pt;line-height:1.2;font-family:arial;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:.5px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]A small portion of their mind, a place hidden within the depths where the excitement touching the steady thrum of their heart may never reach, gentle murmur speaking faint lines. Familiar ground tread a great deal before, worn until they may recite each passage without the need for aid, little more than a drone passing lips that have grown numb to the message it bears. Once might there have been a time there was strength behind each, reverence in words uttered into willing ear, tugging at the heart until it stills, given to the faint tremor of fear they keep at bay, if only barely.
Nothing may have prepared, given hint to what was present in walls topped with a wide dome, spill of harsh light breaking the night huddled close about the structure. They seemed almost puppets, white broken with shifting bodies as they moved about on another, mind supplying memory of dance, yet nothing so elegant and deliberate is present in these actions. Rather it is rugged and wild, movement made with little prompt from thought for better is it to follow the voice of instinct, seeking only to bring them through such an encounter. All too clear is it, with such thoughts swirling about a mind struggling to grasp the very concept of events transpiring before them, their status as a stranger within this place.
“I should not have come...” Words rise yet no conviction is present, pace chosen slow, paws pressing into the earth as Esma moves closer. Of a small stature they find it easy to slip within, dark gaze moving across those present, finding few familiar to them. Idiotic had the idea been, their numbers all too small to offer anything beyond momentary distraction, chance to ruin what few they have. “What are you doing?” Teeth grit, tone one of annoyance more than anything, as attention settles upon the Warden. Close by does he pass, carrying with him the limp frame of one not theirs, nothing more than a child by how small the body appears.
There is no time to question the other further, though want is there entangled within the desire to tear the child from him, smash its skull against the wall, pain more than the mere taking of it, turning from Bucky. Into the fray they find themself caught, many paired off and of a height above their own, little muscle upon them making the fox barely a target to a great many. And then they find one, left aside with no dance partner. Running towards [member=2350]REN[/member] they leapt, jaws open in an attempt to clamp their teeth around his neck.
Nothing may have prepared, given hint to what was present in walls topped with a wide dome, spill of harsh light breaking the night huddled close about the structure. They seemed almost puppets, white broken with shifting bodies as they moved about on another, mind supplying memory of dance, yet nothing so elegant and deliberate is present in these actions. Rather it is rugged and wild, movement made with little prompt from thought for better is it to follow the voice of instinct, seeking only to bring them through such an encounter. All too clear is it, with such thoughts swirling about a mind struggling to grasp the very concept of events transpiring before them, their status as a stranger within this place.
“I should not have come...” Words rise yet no conviction is present, pace chosen slow, paws pressing into the earth as Esma moves closer. Of a small stature they find it easy to slip within, dark gaze moving across those present, finding few familiar to them. Idiotic had the idea been, their numbers all too small to offer anything beyond momentary distraction, chance to ruin what few they have. “What are you doing?” Teeth grit, tone one of annoyance more than anything, as attention settles upon the Warden. Close by does he pass, carrying with him the limp frame of one not theirs, nothing more than a child by how small the body appears.
There is no time to question the other further, though want is there entangled within the desire to tear the child from him, smash its skull against the wall, pain more than the mere taking of it, turning from Bucky. Into the fray they find themself caught, many paired off and of a height above their own, little muscle upon them making the fox barely a target to a great many. And then they find one, left aside with no dance partner. Running towards [member=2350]REN[/member] they leapt, jaws open in an attempt to clamp their teeth around his neck.