02-14-2021, 10:47 PM
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; width: 310px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Running from rather than confronting an issue.
A practice he knew well, had grown accustomed to, though the root was buried in a childhood rife with turbulent times. Possibly such why he occupied a space upon that sand lined stretch before opened gates, stone adorned in both the facsimile of death and its truth, once more his back turned on the issues that plagued his existence. There was no reconciliation, apologises swallowed even as they grew leaden on his tongue, the chance taken when he had been too craven to accept the high road. Similar and yet different, had not it been a tragedy possibly amusing the notion such dark thread acted as common ground.
Even as his coughing abating still laboured each breath after, light the press of paw against throat. Time had been kind in permitting the once heavy build up of scar tissue to fade, a reminder only in discolouration, it had not seen fit to repair the internal damage, however. Noted her presence, hope quiet as it welled, dashed with the realisation that nothing resembling recognition was possible. Minimal, but appreciated, her kindness in allowing him time to recover, slight the smile he wore as she spoke.
How could they help.
Bring back all he had lost, allow him a second chance at all he had squandered because he had never realised how good it truly had been. Teeth ground into tongue, mind slow in working. Chance taken, sheepish grown his expression as Harland rose, hopeful no slight would be taken. Upon heel turning, quick and practiced the movement, sand parting about the tips of his claws. Simple the message inscribed when he stepped back, once more turning to face the other, already beginning to ponder other ways to impart the information should it become necessary. I'm Harland. I wish to join.
A practice he knew well, had grown accustomed to, though the root was buried in a childhood rife with turbulent times. Possibly such why he occupied a space upon that sand lined stretch before opened gates, stone adorned in both the facsimile of death and its truth, once more his back turned on the issues that plagued his existence. There was no reconciliation, apologises swallowed even as they grew leaden on his tongue, the chance taken when he had been too craven to accept the high road. Similar and yet different, had not it been a tragedy possibly amusing the notion such dark thread acted as common ground.
Even as his coughing abating still laboured each breath after, light the press of paw against throat. Time had been kind in permitting the once heavy build up of scar tissue to fade, a reminder only in discolouration, it had not seen fit to repair the internal damage, however. Noted her presence, hope quiet as it welled, dashed with the realisation that nothing resembling recognition was possible. Minimal, but appreciated, her kindness in allowing him time to recover, slight the smile he wore as she spoke.
How could they help.
Bring back all he had lost, allow him a second chance at all he had squandered because he had never realised how good it truly had been. Teeth ground into tongue, mind slow in working. Chance taken, sheepish grown his expression as Harland rose, hopeful no slight would be taken. Upon heel turning, quick and practiced the movement, sand parting about the tips of his claws. Simple the message inscribed when he stepped back, once more turning to face the other, already beginning to ponder other ways to impart the information should it become necessary. I'm Harland. I wish to join.