04-15-2021, 01:52 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 7.5pt; max-width: 400px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]All too well known, in some measure understood, the immediate response when he was caught in the vision of the unassuming, their thoughts buried much of the time, a faux politeness employed. There were always those who deemed themselves beyond reproach, aloud offered remarks as though he were ignorant of his own reflection. Too well did he know it, unneeded the aid of vision. No aid may wipe away each scar, the thickened ridges of flesh not badges as they had once been to his naive mind, a reminder now.
Given the chance, even upon the basis of the fictitious notion of an imagined scenario that allowed him anything beyond reality, he would not give any up. There was no pride in it, nothing akin to that terrible concoction of sneering swagger and the wrongfully held belief his reputation may be improved with such a show he had been drunk upon, an idiot too young to understand. The lesson learnt, burned into his memory, necessary though not the sole cause of his rejection.
There was no such thought threaded across the threshold of his mind in that moment, one drawn out in the dense weight of unbroken silence, more simple it, a quiet ponderance of what may come next. Answer seemed to arrive in the frame of interruption, narrowed lavender depths slow in their study of the figure that cast a dark silhouette against the flat expanse it traversed. Slow the assembly of details, the lax countenance, no shift apparent even as he was, in turn, seemingly studied. Questions rose, barbed against his tongue, a want there to pry. What was it this stranger thought of him with only a shallow pool of information to work with, had his intrusion invited contest, was already the other working over the best course.
Dismissed each in turn as voice rose, a greeting spoken in a tone light, soft the edges laced in a musical note. No combatant this, the thought of confrontation acting as conclusion cast aside, the wake occupied by growing curiosity. Another, slight and precise, steps producing no sound though attributed may that be to the fine strands of grass upon which he tread, approach made without realisation. A rather particular sight, the manner blooms thrived among the strands over shoulders not aligned with any memory he bore, few as they had become, note made of his silence.
"I would ask for sanctuary if you would have me." Brusque his quickly spoken words, imparted as much as he deemed was necessary. The combined presence of a scent line, and the traces of it that he caught on the breeze that seemed to originate from the pair, enough to make evident a wider population was indeed present.
Given the chance, even upon the basis of the fictitious notion of an imagined scenario that allowed him anything beyond reality, he would not give any up. There was no pride in it, nothing akin to that terrible concoction of sneering swagger and the wrongfully held belief his reputation may be improved with such a show he had been drunk upon, an idiot too young to understand. The lesson learnt, burned into his memory, necessary though not the sole cause of his rejection.
There was no such thought threaded across the threshold of his mind in that moment, one drawn out in the dense weight of unbroken silence, more simple it, a quiet ponderance of what may come next. Answer seemed to arrive in the frame of interruption, narrowed lavender depths slow in their study of the figure that cast a dark silhouette against the flat expanse it traversed. Slow the assembly of details, the lax countenance, no shift apparent even as he was, in turn, seemingly studied. Questions rose, barbed against his tongue, a want there to pry. What was it this stranger thought of him with only a shallow pool of information to work with, had his intrusion invited contest, was already the other working over the best course.
Dismissed each in turn as voice rose, a greeting spoken in a tone light, soft the edges laced in a musical note. No combatant this, the thought of confrontation acting as conclusion cast aside, the wake occupied by growing curiosity. Another, slight and precise, steps producing no sound though attributed may that be to the fine strands of grass upon which he tread, approach made without realisation. A rather particular sight, the manner blooms thrived among the strands over shoulders not aligned with any memory he bore, few as they had become, note made of his silence.
"I would ask for sanctuary if you would have me." Brusque his quickly spoken words, imparted as much as he deemed was necessary. The combined presence of a scent line, and the traces of it that he caught on the breeze that seemed to originate from the pair, enough to make evident a wider population was indeed present.