05-22-2021, 07:20 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; max-width: 65%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Did he love the once thief, a man that came from dark alleys redeemed by his own ambition, self made and built by community. Possibly more apt was to question his capability, might his heart be open to such, allowed the walls to fall away and permit an entrance no other had been allowed. To either the answer vague and disingenuous, beyond him any means to be assured in the given response. No fault lay on the side of other, with this man that bore an easy and inviting charm, suited to each scenario presented for he understood himself, accepted it even as it was moulded on a moment by moment basis.
He was everything Harland found escaped him, all he longed for and yet was too brittle to welcome, accepted his designation. Why was it, when sole focus became the other, that dark temptation that gently whispered of all he was not, the idea seemed tangible. Change based in choice, in accepting nothing may be stagnant.
If questioned on how he felt about Michael, upon his capability to allow the other in, accept the attraction he wrapped in the crimson ribbon of supposed affection, easier the admittance he hoped he might. One day, needed only the courage to try, that vain hope may culminate in the joy of imagined endings that neatly contained all that was desired.
That day, distant and hazey, never allowed to arrive.
Few the days that had passed, or it may have reached a week, further extending as consciousness rose and dipped, never assured to linger for more than a handful of seconds. Necessary, rest assured, too many those packed into the briefly vacant temple. Still annoyance flourished, filled the cracks between sluggish thought, thick and clumsy tongue dry. Slow the motion, dragging against lips similar, unfocused golden depths incapable of registering his surroundings. Known his location even as his pulse spiked, confusion parting about the sharp press of anxiety, too long kept, among others he could not face.
His body wished to languish. Against it, mind rebelling, desired that which was forbidden. Together teeth drawn, lips taunt, incremental his rise. Too long the minutes drawn out, hours made of those gathered seconds, breath escaping in a shuddering rush. Triumph could not be tarnished even as his body trembled, pleased with progress that proved minute. Only the beginning, paw sliding across the stone. Again. Repeated over and over, breaks staggered between, ever closer the golden spill, light once shied from and now wanted, a desire deep and without end.
Sweet the first touch, the gentle expansion of light grazing toes, working up, shuttered eyes as head rose. For a moment he indulged, allowed himself this. He would return, would not put upon Roan further work when it was unnecessary. Thoughts did not match with reality, however, eyes opening, ears twitching forth, the soothing lull of the wind and the bird song it carried beckoning. A short walk, enough to loosen muscle that felt unused for an extended period, no harm may come of it.
Stone replaced by soil, his mind roving over new memories, fresh and jarring. Nose wrinkled, teeth shifting, together drawn in a slight click. Still could he smell it, how copper painted the air, a salten tang that refused to be overpowered, voices coalescing, overcut by screams. A whine bypassed teeth, slipped through without notice, fine strands standing in end along his spine. What little of it that was uncovered at least. Extensive the damage, fortune kind for spine had not been impacted, still difficult grown the task of walking, taken for granted for he needed never worry over it. Now it an agony, his back legs beyond his control at times, nerves protesting motion until the muscle seized.
Time and treatment, the proper rest the overworked Soothsayer ascribed needed to minimise any permanent damage. He could not accept it, incapable of prolonged inactivity, enough indulged in during the past month. And look where it had gotten him.
Against the onslaught he pressed forth, accepted the pain, halted at times to inspect what he was capable of, poor the positioning of heavy wrapping. Weathered any lecture, or harsher means to convey his reproach at dissuaded activity, if it may dispel the weight lodged in his throat. Known not the path he followed, allowed simply to wander, destination of no import when designed it to be the place of departure. Ever fluid plans, subject to change upon a whim, the toll that rang forth with a brassy note enough incentive.
Over shoulder vision turned, too many possibilities. Idiotic the notion that any seeking retribution would be brazen to such a degree, still was it there, held a central point in his thoughts as gaze turned once more. The volume made evident close was his proximity to the gate, and thus the one who had acted as its ringer. Harshly he swallowed, caught on a crossroad. Too far had he come to turn back, the miniscule chance a counter had been staged when still were they tending either wounded a suitable driving force.
Confusion all that may be found in the sweep, shallow inspect, a first impression. Unassuming the figure adorned in ebony, slight yet angular, loose posture making evident known what was coming either through experience or second hand knowledge. Mouth opened, words forming. Swallowed they, almost his tongue as well, silence broken as supposed stranger out forth the sought information before the request may be voiced.
Michael.
The lost, gone before all had broken out, hell awaiting the cracks to connect. The interloper, acting upon skill that had elevated him above all else, singled out for it. The dead, his abdomen parted, a feast for crows made. The one that had taken his heart against his own judgement.
"Mich…" Voice trailed off, broken, disjointed name barbs digging into his tongue, that small fragment enough. Closer he stepped, tentative, eyes roving over. Not his place. He bore no connection, was not a member of the family he had found, an integral part of, an acquaintance at best if he were being truthful. The fault his own for this, evaded anything that may reveal the cards tightly pressed to his chest. Best unknown, ties loose, their severe all the easier for it.
Outward reaching, hesitant for a moment. Real, too much so, contact sought. Lost. He had lost him. False this, never deserved his company, never his to claim. Still Harland laid one, allowed impulse a moment to take hold. Distance too grand for how short it was, balance shifting, back crying in renewed agony, still paws reached and sought anchor about the neck of the coyote. Into his space leaning, lips trying to meet, a harsh press, more than words might express in a gesture so simple.
Even without the aid of realising what he had done back did the bombay draw, mouth moving in silent reasoning, explanation that may never come. Understood such should not have occurred, hasty in relief, averted his vision, anything better than witnessing the response.
He was everything Harland found escaped him, all he longed for and yet was too brittle to welcome, accepted his designation. Why was it, when sole focus became the other, that dark temptation that gently whispered of all he was not, the idea seemed tangible. Change based in choice, in accepting nothing may be stagnant.
If questioned on how he felt about Michael, upon his capability to allow the other in, accept the attraction he wrapped in the crimson ribbon of supposed affection, easier the admittance he hoped he might. One day, needed only the courage to try, that vain hope may culminate in the joy of imagined endings that neatly contained all that was desired.
That day, distant and hazey, never allowed to arrive.
Few the days that had passed, or it may have reached a week, further extending as consciousness rose and dipped, never assured to linger for more than a handful of seconds. Necessary, rest assured, too many those packed into the briefly vacant temple. Still annoyance flourished, filled the cracks between sluggish thought, thick and clumsy tongue dry. Slow the motion, dragging against lips similar, unfocused golden depths incapable of registering his surroundings. Known his location even as his pulse spiked, confusion parting about the sharp press of anxiety, too long kept, among others he could not face.
His body wished to languish. Against it, mind rebelling, desired that which was forbidden. Together teeth drawn, lips taunt, incremental his rise. Too long the minutes drawn out, hours made of those gathered seconds, breath escaping in a shuddering rush. Triumph could not be tarnished even as his body trembled, pleased with progress that proved minute. Only the beginning, paw sliding across the stone. Again. Repeated over and over, breaks staggered between, ever closer the golden spill, light once shied from and now wanted, a desire deep and without end.
Sweet the first touch, the gentle expansion of light grazing toes, working up, shuttered eyes as head rose. For a moment he indulged, allowed himself this. He would return, would not put upon Roan further work when it was unnecessary. Thoughts did not match with reality, however, eyes opening, ears twitching forth, the soothing lull of the wind and the bird song it carried beckoning. A short walk, enough to loosen muscle that felt unused for an extended period, no harm may come of it.
Stone replaced by soil, his mind roving over new memories, fresh and jarring. Nose wrinkled, teeth shifting, together drawn in a slight click. Still could he smell it, how copper painted the air, a salten tang that refused to be overpowered, voices coalescing, overcut by screams. A whine bypassed teeth, slipped through without notice, fine strands standing in end along his spine. What little of it that was uncovered at least. Extensive the damage, fortune kind for spine had not been impacted, still difficult grown the task of walking, taken for granted for he needed never worry over it. Now it an agony, his back legs beyond his control at times, nerves protesting motion until the muscle seized.
Time and treatment, the proper rest the overworked Soothsayer ascribed needed to minimise any permanent damage. He could not accept it, incapable of prolonged inactivity, enough indulged in during the past month. And look where it had gotten him.
Against the onslaught he pressed forth, accepted the pain, halted at times to inspect what he was capable of, poor the positioning of heavy wrapping. Weathered any lecture, or harsher means to convey his reproach at dissuaded activity, if it may dispel the weight lodged in his throat. Known not the path he followed, allowed simply to wander, destination of no import when designed it to be the place of departure. Ever fluid plans, subject to change upon a whim, the toll that rang forth with a brassy note enough incentive.
Over shoulder vision turned, too many possibilities. Idiotic the notion that any seeking retribution would be brazen to such a degree, still was it there, held a central point in his thoughts as gaze turned once more. The volume made evident close was his proximity to the gate, and thus the one who had acted as its ringer. Harshly he swallowed, caught on a crossroad. Too far had he come to turn back, the miniscule chance a counter had been staged when still were they tending either wounded a suitable driving force.
Confusion all that may be found in the sweep, shallow inspect, a first impression. Unassuming the figure adorned in ebony, slight yet angular, loose posture making evident known what was coming either through experience or second hand knowledge. Mouth opened, words forming. Swallowed they, almost his tongue as well, silence broken as supposed stranger out forth the sought information before the request may be voiced.
Michael.
The lost, gone before all had broken out, hell awaiting the cracks to connect. The interloper, acting upon skill that had elevated him above all else, singled out for it. The dead, his abdomen parted, a feast for crows made. The one that had taken his heart against his own judgement.
"Mich…" Voice trailed off, broken, disjointed name barbs digging into his tongue, that small fragment enough. Closer he stepped, tentative, eyes roving over. Not his place. He bore no connection, was not a member of the family he had found, an integral part of, an acquaintance at best if he were being truthful. The fault his own for this, evaded anything that may reveal the cards tightly pressed to his chest. Best unknown, ties loose, their severe all the easier for it.
Outward reaching, hesitant for a moment. Real, too much so, contact sought. Lost. He had lost him. False this, never deserved his company, never his to claim. Still Harland laid one, allowed impulse a moment to take hold. Distance too grand for how short it was, balance shifting, back crying in renewed agony, still paws reached and sought anchor about the neck of the coyote. Into his space leaning, lips trying to meet, a harsh press, more than words might express in a gesture so simple.
Even without the aid of realising what he had done back did the bombay draw, mouth moving in silent reasoning, explanation that may never come. Understood such should not have occurred, hasty in relief, averted his vision, anything better than witnessing the response.