Dried leather, plates of glass to ignite and magnify the world, and slices of steel molded to hold all together. All of this clings to his dark face with a vengance, and while his head is flung every which directions for hours on end at times, he has to face the fact that it is stuck upon his bony skull. Inside those hours are voices to confuse his every thought and action, a darkness that takes forever to escape. Steps become like circles.
Given the chance and being a thought, it wouldn't take too much longer till he was as useful as a Swiss cow, walking in cirles just because one leg was longer than the rest.
He doesn't that now, a lot more than what would be expected and losing all comical acts to his depressing appearance, with ribs painting themselves beneath his dappled skin and shorted hair, gas mask glued firmly to a powerful head, he becomes like a zombied corpse, the living but truly the living dead, warning about aimlessly in the nights while his head is through about. Each and everyone of those who come across him like to stop and stare at him, to see if he shall fall to his knees and hear them snap and shattered beneath such weight. He needs to break like a frail China doll he seems to be, held together like a rag doll passed down to new daughters in a family that lacks enough money to purchase a true doll for their beautiful girl.
There is a social gathering within the meadow, and he comes in like a wrecking ball to crash their occasion.
That line would seem normal if only it hadn't been true.
See, Shajake was well along with this episode of head swinging. The leather strap attached to his neck goes about with him, and the pain that would fill his nerves with screams has faded with the warmth of Tallsun. A scar, a fairly large scar if I shall point it out, is now on his neck and there for all to view. It could recieve a few winces and cringes at the thought of how he came across such a dreadful sight. Blood lines it, a dark crust surrounding his stitched in rags.
Balance couldn't ever be described as a good aspect for him, his black legs tripping over themselves almost every day. Today, they couldn't keep off each other.
Coming down, he lands nearest the colt and it's mother, laying in grasses with mask still firmly held. There are others, he wants to see them with green eyes aglow and one ear alert to hear their voices. Instead, he remains hidden like he would normally do and waits for others.
There are always others, there always will be. They like to put dirty hands over everything beautiful like the tree he glimpsed, and he lays in wait like a predator to scare the jeepers out of them.


"talk talk talk"