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12-10-2014, 06:56 PM
EREBOS A noteworthy proposal with an unfortunate blemish tagged in its lines: Head-stick. “You mean my horn?” A Unicorn’s prowess was in question, as if she’d never seen such a marvel upon one’s head, and a sense of pride overwhelmed, fulfilled, his little chest in a widened puff and tilted skull, eyes widened, shocked, surprised at her unfamiliarity. The lithe cretin wasn’t offended, but the threads of his heart begged to unveil and surmise explanations, a call of duty, a siren song of creeds and upheavals. His species’ dignity and honor were conveyed through the swords, the rapiers, the cutlasses, the knives emblazoned across their brows: showing, manifesting, displaying the distinct, tangible depths of their power. He thought his own was a wonderful specimen, much like his father’s, smothered and hovering in magnificent sable, dipped in watery convictions, sharp, keen, capable of future endeavors, crusades, and campaigns. He thrived between and amongst descendants and predecessors of equivalent scimitars, created and amassed from barbaric beasts and infernal warlords, cast from stone, from rain, from death and fire. The little lad would have no qualms in waxing poetical upon their esteemed qualities and factors, and after he stared at her proffered hoof, he administered the same promise, lifting his foot to crash against hers. The identical boyish smile curled across his lips, as if she’d just signed a deal with the devil. “Promise.” But then he watched, he marveled, he studied, as she practiced her own calling, witnessing and delving into the marvelous display. She ran, she galloped, she pressed into the ice, and then took-off, flapping, beating, fluttering, and rippling, and he couldn’t fathom how the feeble, delicate, flimsy looking feathers and wings held her aloft, streamlined into the sky. The puzzling, befuddling, confusing anomaly sparked and buzzed, spun a tempest, a gale, amidst his avaricious mind. The pondering pulsed through his lungs, pervaded along his throat, burst along the chilling horizon, a feral crescendo, a curious exuberance. “How do they hold you up?” |
