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03-12-2015, 01:12 AM
I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
She moved and the carefully built illusion snapped, a physical echo of the sound he'd make. Zèklè almost felt sad, watching moss and life fall from her sides, watching her return to boring normalcy- but of course she wasn't even close to being boring, or normal, and he was quickly distracted once again, his sadness tossed aside. Even without her earthen blanket he'd never seen anyone with markings quite like hers, and she had wings and horns like Breccan and Auriel. Maybe she knew them?
A small, selfish part of him hoped she did not, because then he could introduce them, and she could be his story to share.
He liked the way she talked, he decided, and stepped forward out of the trees. Even though she was older she didn't seem condescending, and unlike many she didn't seem to find Zèklè's curiosity tiring, or dumb. Her creatures lumbered toward him on earthen legs; he grinned, amazed, and peered upwards into ill-formed faces. Absently he nodded, as though the fact that she could make them out of water too was the most natural thing in the whole entire world (and why not? he'd been born into a world of magic, after all). "How long d'they last? I gots magic too, I think, but I dunno how to do it yet." Maybe something like that! How cool would that be?! He turned back to the girl and grinned, bottle brush flailing eagerly beneath blue-tipped tailfeathers.
When she said she wasn't a spirit Zèklè tilted his head, not quite disappointed but still innocently confused. "How come?" he asked the (apparently) older girl, frowning slightly as he tried to reconcile this affirmation with his mother's stories. Obviously Ma wasn't wrong, but the girl seemed pretty sure that spirits really weren't real. "My Ma told me stories 'bout 'em. She tells me lotsa stories. I could tell you some, but I'm not so good..."
He trailed off, suddenly bashful, and reached around to bite nervously at his barren shoulder. "'Sides," mumbled the half-boy toward his hooves, "Your Ma prob'ly tells you lots too." He felt embarrassment rising into his face. Silently, Zèklè hoped that the not-spirit-girl wouldn't take him up on his hastily made offer. He wasn't a storyteller, not like Ma, and there was no way he could ever do any of her tales justice.
His neck snapped back up when she asked him for his name, and the moment of inadequacy passed. He was happy for the change of subject. His name, now, that was something he knew!
But- but- !- the boy stared, agape, surprised, innocently unaware of any offence his actions might make. Haven't decided?! "Didn't your Ma name you?" he demanded, voice colored only by surprise, free of judgment and awash with confusion. His Ma had named him, and he'd never met anyone without a name before. Weird! He closed his mouth and looked back at the earth-beasts, before turning back to her, a suspicious glint in his sunbeam eyes.
"Are you sure you're not a spirit?"
@[Isopia]
A small, selfish part of him hoped she did not, because then he could introduce them, and she could be his story to share.
He liked the way she talked, he decided, and stepped forward out of the trees. Even though she was older she didn't seem condescending, and unlike many she didn't seem to find Zèklè's curiosity tiring, or dumb. Her creatures lumbered toward him on earthen legs; he grinned, amazed, and peered upwards into ill-formed faces. Absently he nodded, as though the fact that she could make them out of water too was the most natural thing in the whole entire world (and why not? he'd been born into a world of magic, after all). "How long d'they last? I gots magic too, I think, but I dunno how to do it yet." Maybe something like that! How cool would that be?! He turned back to the girl and grinned, bottle brush flailing eagerly beneath blue-tipped tailfeathers.
When she said she wasn't a spirit Zèklè tilted his head, not quite disappointed but still innocently confused. "How come?" he asked the (apparently) older girl, frowning slightly as he tried to reconcile this affirmation with his mother's stories. Obviously Ma wasn't wrong, but the girl seemed pretty sure that spirits really weren't real. "My Ma told me stories 'bout 'em. She tells me lotsa stories. I could tell you some, but I'm not so good..."
He trailed off, suddenly bashful, and reached around to bite nervously at his barren shoulder. "'Sides," mumbled the half-boy toward his hooves, "Your Ma prob'ly tells you lots too." He felt embarrassment rising into his face. Silently, Zèklè hoped that the not-spirit-girl wouldn't take him up on his hastily made offer. He wasn't a storyteller, not like Ma, and there was no way he could ever do any of her tales justice.
His neck snapped back up when she asked him for his name, and the moment of inadequacy passed. He was happy for the change of subject. His name, now, that was something he knew!
But- but- !- the boy stared, agape, surprised, innocently unaware of any offence his actions might make. Haven't decided?! "Didn't your Ma name you?" he demanded, voice colored only by surprise, free of judgment and awash with confusion. His Ma had named him, and he'd never met anyone without a name before. Weird! He closed his mouth and looked back at the earth-beasts, before turning back to her, a suspicious glint in his sunbeam eyes.
"Are you sure you're not a spirit?"
@[Isopia]
Z è K L è
am i more than you bargained for yet?
am i more than you bargained for yet?
