AESIOR OPHELES
✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go
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Soft words as sharp in the quiet murmurings of the river would produce an inquisitive sound of grass crunching under a body's weight. Observant the gaze as scent of iron ichor touched long-dead nose, ears swiveling forward. Alone had he thought his presence, coming upon innocent the scene of a man sharpening his dagger. Scarred the throat that convulsed, wanting to call out from the short bank he stood upon, swallowing dryly as he instead began a descent.
He knew not the emotions held within the other man, but he knew well of sins and repentance that must be paid. Some could be saved and others were forfeit in situations that could not be won. May it bring some peace in another life or branch of time would that the situation be different, that the lost and loved be with the ones who desired them once again. Numerous the possibilities each spurned and spun by each passing second and ticking of the clock that none could hear. Lonely the battle-scarred and seeking of quaint companionship the mute. Coming to his side with press of pads upon stone and muck, grass caught in stages of decay between toes tired of travel.
Close came the nose, sniffing at the cut that wept from the other's pad, his intentions innocent and of concern. he knew the pain of moments like these, though one could not say that the pain itself was within or outside of the body. Gentle the paw that attempted to gently withdraw cotton fibers from within satchel upon hip and press to soothe the crying ichor. He knew his presence might not be warranted but commotion was unnecessary for injury, he had not lost a limb, there was no need for screaming or fanatics. Simply the blades bite was more than thought, a slip-up made many times in the past and yet to occur within future. Remained the dagger where it had fallen, not wanting to further intrude upon memories delicate and maintained in each's own method or crux.
He knew not the emotions held within the other man, but he knew well of sins and repentance that must be paid. Some could be saved and others were forfeit in situations that could not be won. May it bring some peace in another life or branch of time would that the situation be different, that the lost and loved be with the ones who desired them once again. Numerous the possibilities each spurned and spun by each passing second and ticking of the clock that none could hear. Lonely the battle-scarred and seeking of quaint companionship the mute. Coming to his side with press of pads upon stone and muck, grass caught in stages of decay between toes tired of travel.
Close came the nose, sniffing at the cut that wept from the other's pad, his intentions innocent and of concern. he knew the pain of moments like these, though one could not say that the pain itself was within or outside of the body. Gentle the paw that attempted to gently withdraw cotton fibers from within satchel upon hip and press to soothe the crying ichor. He knew his presence might not be warranted but commotion was unnecessary for injury, he had not lost a limb, there was no need for screaming or fanatics. Simply the blades bite was more than thought, a slip-up made many times in the past and yet to occur within future. Remained the dagger where it had fallen, not wanting to further intrude upon memories delicate and maintained in each's own method or crux.
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THE FLOWER BURNS