03-19-2020, 05:06 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; width: 60%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]A soft notion arising from the edges of brine encased horizon, ever shifting yet stagnant. There is nothing to halt the twining of rose and plum, delicate hints of orange lacing the other edges of wisps pulled along by slow breeze. Brief the shroud of darkness, hidden behind the softness of ivory lids depths grown weary as exhaustion tugged with an increasing insistence. Yet aside it all pushed once more, small the paw arising to rub at aching eyes.
In a manner this time of slow rousing, when the soft hues of dawn touched the dwindling boundaries of fading night, belonged to Eulia as no other might.
Cool the glass upon which forehead pressed, light the tink of rounded edges making contact their own, sleepy the murmur parting their lips. Had not it been for the fresh divets pressed into the accumulated grains it may well have been stolen were they by the teasing lull of pleasant dreams, confusion alighting within the turbulent tumble of quickened thoughts. Early the hour of rise for many of them, it seemed of limitless potential the energy singing with a bright tune through new nerves, haste present within stumbling steps.
Unsure proved the child, for a moment framed within the minimal opening of door. Poor the vision permitted by washed out depths of lilac, narrowed in an effort to discern what adorned the stretch of beach laid before them. It was the quiet presence of worry encircling the edges of their thoughts that finally pushed them forth, among the small prints left in their wake a more shallow groove apparent where the length of their tail lay atop the grains. Familiar the sweetness of preciously crafted baked goods, underlying the note of dying milk for unneeded its production, yet of strength something merely her own.
"Mama…" Quiet the squeaky call falling from trembling lips, aching with a building pressure their heart as the odd noise produced by solitary figure registered. Unimpeded their further approach, though some hesitance prevailed their attempt to insert themself between the forelegs of the draconid jaguar, leaning closer to press their muzzle against her chest. "Mama not meant be sad."
In a manner this time of slow rousing, when the soft hues of dawn touched the dwindling boundaries of fading night, belonged to Eulia as no other might.
Cool the glass upon which forehead pressed, light the tink of rounded edges making contact their own, sleepy the murmur parting their lips. Had not it been for the fresh divets pressed into the accumulated grains it may well have been stolen were they by the teasing lull of pleasant dreams, confusion alighting within the turbulent tumble of quickened thoughts. Early the hour of rise for many of them, it seemed of limitless potential the energy singing with a bright tune through new nerves, haste present within stumbling steps.
Unsure proved the child, for a moment framed within the minimal opening of door. Poor the vision permitted by washed out depths of lilac, narrowed in an effort to discern what adorned the stretch of beach laid before them. It was the quiet presence of worry encircling the edges of their thoughts that finally pushed them forth, among the small prints left in their wake a more shallow groove apparent where the length of their tail lay atop the grains. Familiar the sweetness of preciously crafted baked goods, underlying the note of dying milk for unneeded its production, yet of strength something merely her own.
"Mama…" Quiet the squeaky call falling from trembling lips, aching with a building pressure their heart as the odd noise produced by solitary figure registered. Unimpeded their further approach, though some hesitance prevailed their attempt to insert themself between the forelegs of the draconid jaguar, leaning closer to press their muzzle against her chest. "Mama not meant be sad."