10-20-2018, 09:33 PM
[size=9pt]It's been cold in the Observatory. The floors are icy to walk on. You'd think, with the amount Moon's been pacing them, that they'd of warmed up by now. But no. Maybe it's because he's got cold paws. Yeah. That's probably it.
Everything's been bad. Meaning his head is throbbing and his eyes are sore and his body feels lax when he walks, like it's being held up by stilts that are starting to splinter with his weight and he'll crash down to the ground, soon enough. Smash his head against the stone floor and knock himself out. He wouldn't mind that, right now. With all the dead bodies turning up, he'd blend in. A plus was that paranoia, anxiety, guilt-- they didn't exist in the afterlife. Only massive three-headed dogs and pomegranate seeds.
It's ridiculous and he knows it. The fact that he's crashing so fast. Plummeting to the ground at lightning speed, faster than anyone that came before him ever has. He feels weak like he never has before. On this day, in particular, it's hitting hard. His steps are stumbling as he drags himself down the hallway, feeling like the last few chugs of an ancient engine before it stumbles to a spluttering halt. And when he hears Harland's voice it's his last drop of energy that carries him to the kitten, but when he sees him, alive, it's worth it.
"You're back." Breathes the lion, sounding painfully relieved. The sides of his lips start to tilt upwards, and suddenly he's not thinking about murders or alliances or responsibilities, and instead he's tripping forwards, lowering himself close to the ground in front of the kitten. He desperately wants to reach out and pull him against his chest, make sure to never let him leave ever again, but Moon knows boundaries when it comes to Har, so he holds back, studies him with frantic eyes. "Tell me they didn't hurt you, Har."
Everything's been bad. Meaning his head is throbbing and his eyes are sore and his body feels lax when he walks, like it's being held up by stilts that are starting to splinter with his weight and he'll crash down to the ground, soon enough. Smash his head against the stone floor and knock himself out. He wouldn't mind that, right now. With all the dead bodies turning up, he'd blend in. A plus was that paranoia, anxiety, guilt-- they didn't exist in the afterlife. Only massive three-headed dogs and pomegranate seeds.
It's ridiculous and he knows it. The fact that he's crashing so fast. Plummeting to the ground at lightning speed, faster than anyone that came before him ever has. He feels weak like he never has before. On this day, in particular, it's hitting hard. His steps are stumbling as he drags himself down the hallway, feeling like the last few chugs of an ancient engine before it stumbles to a spluttering halt. And when he hears Harland's voice it's his last drop of energy that carries him to the kitten, but when he sees him, alive, it's worth it.
"You're back." Breathes the lion, sounding painfully relieved. The sides of his lips start to tilt upwards, and suddenly he's not thinking about murders or alliances or responsibilities, and instead he's tripping forwards, lowering himself close to the ground in front of the kitten. He desperately wants to reach out and pull him against his chest, make sure to never let him leave ever again, but Moon knows boundaries when it comes to Har, so he holds back, studies him with frantic eyes. "Tell me they didn't hurt you, Har."
[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]