10-26-2018, 04:27 AM
[align=center][div style="width:450px; font-size:8.6pt;line-height:1.2;font-family:calibri;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]To place the experiences of such things into a comparison, attempt to pull apart threads until only the basic core is left within uncaring hands, scrutinised by eyes grown weary, was in a way wrong. Little may be gathered from such for what differences lingered about ragged edges spoke only of the changes between each, points in which one may be lost if they cared to delve too deep. And yet many chose to do such with abandon, permitting thoughts to encircle such a pointless task given minimal prompt.
Was it not fact, threads within the entangled mass which swirled about a small head, worked along solid bone, that they had been within similar a position not a great deal of time before. It might have been a mere touch of coincidence, actions repeated though the structure of them all proves different, reasoning inclined to matters more personal. Easy to dismiss may it be then, brushed to the side the sheepish sound of laughter drawn from behind a lifted paw, embarrassed almost to bring such a concept up. But could one deem it so simple. May it be the lazy curl of fingers, those deemed higher above all given simple want to cause something more, fingers trailing over the threads of life, entangling them until something new was brought about. This spoke more of such things, intervening touch bringing the beast within this place where the air held a weight of its own, heat given an edge, moisture gathering until it was cast upon slumped shoulders.
Jarring was such transition, caught in moments when the mind has been shut down, permitted break. Almost was it a period of rest, slumber unbroken within a stretch of time beyond what one may bare. Almost amusing is it to think the defensive tactics of the body, this state where it shuts down all but the most vital of functions, put upon stand by with hope of assistance, may lead to death. A crossroads it is, life and death caught upon a path that splits into two directions, the swinging light of lantern caught between.
Dark eyes glimmer within expanse of a face dusted within a tone of cinnamon permitted chance to grown a golden sheen, tongue poking through dark lips before they are parting. Heavy breath, exhale quickly replaced as yawn draws in another breath, groan escaping as their steps slow for brief moment. Youth are they and yet the head upon such small shoulders is over encumbered, given the structure of thoughts more complex then they may formulate or permit words, intruders dancing upon the edge of it all within reach yet so like smoke as they reached for it. Paw lifts, minuscule grains caught upon it falling as it touches upon cheek, rubbing along its curve before it raises, pressing to closed eye. Clear is the exhaustion about the cub, the energy expected from one within such a stage of their life missing, once more jaws parting with the inhale of a yawn. For but a brief moment it crumbled away beneath the want for rest, mind struggling to keep up beyond such want, edges darkening before ears flicked forward.
At such a distance the call was faded, worn until it seemed but a murmur, caught upon gentle breeze. Enough was the spark of curiosity within, fire caught in mind and spreading until they were moving, a pace beginning slow yet picking up with each trudging step. Strange was it, the inquiry offered within moments of the child deemed CCLIV, the cool heavy weight of the shackle about their paw a reminder of such, approaching. Gentle sound of their own arose from parted lips, soft squeak drawn out until it became a hum. “Die,” unease tinged the single word, given to a higher pitch then Beck, breaking apart once more into soft hum. It was less musical, this faint, strained noise, a thing made for the word lacked meaning yet something about it felt wrong. “What die?” Inquiry spoken as dark eyes found the ravaged boy, a thing of mangy fur toned within the shade of graveyard dirt left to lie, darker about spots. Eyes found cheek where skin had been torn, curve of teeth left exposed for all.
Brief was the lingering gaze, moving instead to touch upon the other. Similarities were present, enough so small quirk drew pale lips up, though every now and then those dark eyes flicked back to Becky, unsure on how he may react to their question. “Big. You like pops.” Soft laughter rose after the words, paw lifting to press against their muzzle.
Was it not fact, threads within the entangled mass which swirled about a small head, worked along solid bone, that they had been within similar a position not a great deal of time before. It might have been a mere touch of coincidence, actions repeated though the structure of them all proves different, reasoning inclined to matters more personal. Easy to dismiss may it be then, brushed to the side the sheepish sound of laughter drawn from behind a lifted paw, embarrassed almost to bring such a concept up. But could one deem it so simple. May it be the lazy curl of fingers, those deemed higher above all given simple want to cause something more, fingers trailing over the threads of life, entangling them until something new was brought about. This spoke more of such things, intervening touch bringing the beast within this place where the air held a weight of its own, heat given an edge, moisture gathering until it was cast upon slumped shoulders.
Jarring was such transition, caught in moments when the mind has been shut down, permitted break. Almost was it a period of rest, slumber unbroken within a stretch of time beyond what one may bare. Almost amusing is it to think the defensive tactics of the body, this state where it shuts down all but the most vital of functions, put upon stand by with hope of assistance, may lead to death. A crossroads it is, life and death caught upon a path that splits into two directions, the swinging light of lantern caught between.
Dark eyes glimmer within expanse of a face dusted within a tone of cinnamon permitted chance to grown a golden sheen, tongue poking through dark lips before they are parting. Heavy breath, exhale quickly replaced as yawn draws in another breath, groan escaping as their steps slow for brief moment. Youth are they and yet the head upon such small shoulders is over encumbered, given the structure of thoughts more complex then they may formulate or permit words, intruders dancing upon the edge of it all within reach yet so like smoke as they reached for it. Paw lifts, minuscule grains caught upon it falling as it touches upon cheek, rubbing along its curve before it raises, pressing to closed eye. Clear is the exhaustion about the cub, the energy expected from one within such a stage of their life missing, once more jaws parting with the inhale of a yawn. For but a brief moment it crumbled away beneath the want for rest, mind struggling to keep up beyond such want, edges darkening before ears flicked forward.
At such a distance the call was faded, worn until it seemed but a murmur, caught upon gentle breeze. Enough was the spark of curiosity within, fire caught in mind and spreading until they were moving, a pace beginning slow yet picking up with each trudging step. Strange was it, the inquiry offered within moments of the child deemed CCLIV, the cool heavy weight of the shackle about their paw a reminder of such, approaching. Gentle sound of their own arose from parted lips, soft squeak drawn out until it became a hum. “Die,” unease tinged the single word, given to a higher pitch then Beck, breaking apart once more into soft hum. It was less musical, this faint, strained noise, a thing made for the word lacked meaning yet something about it felt wrong. “What die?” Inquiry spoken as dark eyes found the ravaged boy, a thing of mangy fur toned within the shade of graveyard dirt left to lie, darker about spots. Eyes found cheek where skin had been torn, curve of teeth left exposed for all.
Brief was the lingering gaze, moving instead to touch upon the other. Similarities were present, enough so small quirk drew pale lips up, though every now and then those dark eyes flicked back to Becky, unsure on how he may react to their question. “Big. You like pops.” Soft laughter rose after the words, paw lifting to press against their muzzle.