10-11-2018, 04:45 AM
[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;"]“Do you need help...” Soft words toned with uncertainty rising from lips barely parted about each syllable. Rather than the lilt of a question posing want for explanation it broke apart, silence filling the space as it faded, uneasy quirk to shaky lips. It is little more than a facade, joy caught within the small smile never finding place within dark eye, a mask they bare for what else if left if they allow the world to see what turmoil plays amongst the static of empty mind. They know well there is no need for such, the state of eyes that gaze upon a world uncaring to his plight clear, clouded until the filter of minimal light is all he may witness, but it is safe and familiar.
They remember well their own struggle with finding a place, one which seemed to hold no end, a thought present in the back of their mind in moments they are left to their own devices. It is such, the beat of heart and the static of empty thought, which drove them here, seeking the company of one they thought interesting. Many present held an air about them, something speaking of anger and pain, a shallow feeling of hatred hidden amongst those frayed threads, few able, or caring, to hide it. Amongst it all he is soft, a gentle warmth about him that draws Sil as though they were nothing more than a moth at the beck and call of the flame, drawing all too close, never caring of the pain to be inflicted.
Small paw reaches up, seeks to gently press against muzzle. No crimson was present, wash of liquid hinting at break caused by impact, an object they had barely seen, left to ricochet off Latterday into the distance. “Are you hurt?” Faint note of hardness, no room for argument to speak against it, wanting only an answer.
They remember well their own struggle with finding a place, one which seemed to hold no end, a thought present in the back of their mind in moments they are left to their own devices. It is such, the beat of heart and the static of empty thought, which drove them here, seeking the company of one they thought interesting. Many present held an air about them, something speaking of anger and pain, a shallow feeling of hatred hidden amongst those frayed threads, few able, or caring, to hide it. Amongst it all he is soft, a gentle warmth about him that draws Sil as though they were nothing more than a moth at the beck and call of the flame, drawing all too close, never caring of the pain to be inflicted.
Small paw reaches up, seeks to gently press against muzzle. No crimson was present, wash of liquid hinting at break caused by impact, an object they had barely seen, left to ricochet off Latterday into the distance. “Are you hurt?” Faint note of hardness, no room for argument to speak against it, wanting only an answer.