11-11-2018, 07:07 AM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Strain and you may find within the clamour of sound, the heavy toll as the clapper within swung until it struck the interior, peel of sound raising as the metal reverberated with the sudden contact, melodic a touch. First was it within the slow turn of thought, present when their time upon the island deemed paradise had found its beginning, lost child caught within the darkness of light slumber. Within comparison to some they bore different thought when such was the topic at hand, picking at the sound until it grew a sound its own, within chest raising their own response. In truth they found themself enjoying it, heavy the sensation of pressure building in their chest until – hum brushed along pursed lips and rose in a steady exhale, crumbling apart with light a laugh.
Well they knew the idiocy within action, the reprimand of those times before fresh within mind that clung to the sharp words, softened with worry, yet aside were they pushed. It mattered not that skin had split and burn, cracking beneath the heat of the fire, the ache of it spiralling through tense muscle about small hips. Gone was the fur about them and partly upon a leg, yet heavy was the covering of bandages and from it rose the herb toned scent of the substance rubbed into the burnt skin. Shuffling was each step as small paws barely lifted from the surface of earth, mix of loose top soil mingling with particles of sand that had fallen from others, rather they merely pushed each paw forward, dragging marks left within their wake.
Uncomfortable worn where it should and so cinched high was the sheath adorning cinnamon dusted child, press of leather against spine and the hilt slotted in the space between shoulders. There was no chance for them to take hold of the small knife but it was enough to have it there, feel the leather rub against short fur, the weight shifting and moving with each step. Such all came together into a strange sight, the earth tone of dark eyes steely as they lifted towards the unknown amongst them, but seconds spared for faces they knew – or within the case of Cleo accepted as someone of little importance in this moment.
Well they knew the idiocy within action, the reprimand of those times before fresh within mind that clung to the sharp words, softened with worry, yet aside were they pushed. It mattered not that skin had split and burn, cracking beneath the heat of the fire, the ache of it spiralling through tense muscle about small hips. Gone was the fur about them and partly upon a leg, yet heavy was the covering of bandages and from it rose the herb toned scent of the substance rubbed into the burnt skin. Shuffling was each step as small paws barely lifted from the surface of earth, mix of loose top soil mingling with particles of sand that had fallen from others, rather they merely pushed each paw forward, dragging marks left within their wake.
Uncomfortable worn where it should and so cinched high was the sheath adorning cinnamon dusted child, press of leather against spine and the hilt slotted in the space between shoulders. There was no chance for them to take hold of the small knife but it was enough to have it there, feel the leather rub against short fur, the weight shifting and moving with each step. Such all came together into a strange sight, the earth tone of dark eyes steely as they lifted towards the unknown amongst them, but seconds spared for faces they knew – or within the case of Cleo accepted as someone of little importance in this moment.