02-19-2021, 08:19 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; width: 310px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Within a rather loose definition, though such how he preferred things, edges pushed to their limits before snapback may occur, it seemed Wild was fortunate. Or, possibly, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time, beyond intervention, help he could never give.
What if.
Absent had he been, pursuits beyond enclosed walls more intriguing than the poor offering of the interior, well worn the stay of old games, the flare of toys taken when he had none to pilfer them from. What exactly his attention was upon an unknown, one he would know and another may only ceaselessly ponder, his return offering no clues. He carried nothing, though unkempt and dirtied the dark strands of his coat, imperfections hidden to such a degree he seemed merely messy rather than the truth of being grime coated. Enjoyed was this state, however, different made the basic, his own distaste for cleanliness known well.
Off guard was he caught with the sudden wall of water that erupted from the front door, the force of the passing liquid enough to press it against the house exterior. Silent his watch, though mouth fell open and he seemed likely to make noise had he the ability in that moment, sharp the closure, accompanied by a click as his teeth slammed together. Transparent the tide and so easily seen those suspended within, haste pushing him forth down the few steps allowing him to move from boardwalk to beach. Continued his quick movement, too much so, sand added for flat upon his face had he fallen, uncaring of the clinging particles.
Too much going on, about each scattered, movement a draw. Had he known would he had looked, most likely, a moth to a flame was he, prone to falling victim to the curiosity that killed his brethren. There was no satisfaction, nothing but a knot, breath shortened as the words bypassed the dull ring, the world cruelly coming back to him. Slow his forward creep, the jostle igniting a hope that quickly died as proximity dispelled the notion she was the cause. "She hasta wake up, she's gotta." What else to say with the sting of tears in eyes that ached, his refusal, or maybe he simply forgot, to blink made apparent.
He did not understand, could not, fine the hope clung to as Wild further closed the distance. Too cold, damp the fur of her shoulder, gentle shake grown rough when response was not given. "Come on, Wyv, it ain't sleepy time."
What if.
Absent had he been, pursuits beyond enclosed walls more intriguing than the poor offering of the interior, well worn the stay of old games, the flare of toys taken when he had none to pilfer them from. What exactly his attention was upon an unknown, one he would know and another may only ceaselessly ponder, his return offering no clues. He carried nothing, though unkempt and dirtied the dark strands of his coat, imperfections hidden to such a degree he seemed merely messy rather than the truth of being grime coated. Enjoyed was this state, however, different made the basic, his own distaste for cleanliness known well.
Off guard was he caught with the sudden wall of water that erupted from the front door, the force of the passing liquid enough to press it against the house exterior. Silent his watch, though mouth fell open and he seemed likely to make noise had he the ability in that moment, sharp the closure, accompanied by a click as his teeth slammed together. Transparent the tide and so easily seen those suspended within, haste pushing him forth down the few steps allowing him to move from boardwalk to beach. Continued his quick movement, too much so, sand added for flat upon his face had he fallen, uncaring of the clinging particles.
Too much going on, about each scattered, movement a draw. Had he known would he had looked, most likely, a moth to a flame was he, prone to falling victim to the curiosity that killed his brethren. There was no satisfaction, nothing but a knot, breath shortened as the words bypassed the dull ring, the world cruelly coming back to him. Slow his forward creep, the jostle igniting a hope that quickly died as proximity dispelled the notion she was the cause. "She hasta wake up, she's gotta." What else to say with the sting of tears in eyes that ached, his refusal, or maybe he simply forgot, to blink made apparent.
He did not understand, could not, fine the hope clung to as Wild further closed the distance. Too cold, damp the fur of her shoulder, gentle shake grown rough when response was not given. "Come on, Wyv, it ain't sleepy time."