.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
08-10-2015, 05:29 PM
Another sunrise.
Another day.
Another start.
Another end.
Father Time is inaccurately named. For his role is more of the taunting elder brother. He is fast talking and is hasty to thrust forward ridiculous dares. Make yourself remembered Demothi. Or fade into oblivion. I can see him shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. The rising and falling sun are his personal jabs from him to I. Passing night into day and day to night is his way of saying I am taking too long.
Bare treess creak and groan, crying out, at the weight of the unrelenting Frostfall. A piece of bark from one of the trees is absentmindedly tossed about in my mouth. I rake my eyes over the stunted trees of the Steppe. I won't ever allow myself to carry their weakened appearance.
Turning casually on my heel I amble towards the nearest water source. My curl ridden tail trails behind me. D*mn curls. If not for the flies I would rub it out like my mane.
Moments pass and I reach a frozen stream. Pawing at it I spit my bark to the ground and replace it with a mouthful of icy water. My eyes widen with the first gulp. It is an icy shot down my throat and washes to my stomach. After a few swallows I save a mouthful and breathe through my nose. It will be repayment for the bark I took from the tree.
Pawing away the snow near my tree I open my mouth to allow the water to fall to the ground. Standing with quiet satisfaction I watch the water disappear as the tree soaks it up.
"Now quit your fussing," my voice is smooth with a much softer tone. I almost sound fatherly, "Drink up. Spring will come once more." Time has a soft spot for trees. These scraggly saplings will see many more seasons. Trees are the sentinels for Father Time, keeping watch for centuries on end. Perhaps this one can put in a good word for me.
Hiccups bounce from my throat and skip through the quiet landscape.
@Zandora
Another day.
Another start.
Another end.
Father Time is inaccurately named. For his role is more of the taunting elder brother. He is fast talking and is hasty to thrust forward ridiculous dares. Make yourself remembered Demothi. Or fade into oblivion. I can see him shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. The rising and falling sun are his personal jabs from him to I. Passing night into day and day to night is his way of saying I am taking too long.
Bare treess creak and groan, crying out, at the weight of the unrelenting Frostfall. A piece of bark from one of the trees is absentmindedly tossed about in my mouth. I rake my eyes over the stunted trees of the Steppe. I won't ever allow myself to carry their weakened appearance.
Turning casually on my heel I amble towards the nearest water source. My curl ridden tail trails behind me. D*mn curls. If not for the flies I would rub it out like my mane.
Moments pass and I reach a frozen stream. Pawing at it I spit my bark to the ground and replace it with a mouthful of icy water. My eyes widen with the first gulp. It is an icy shot down my throat and washes to my stomach. After a few swallows I save a mouthful and breathe through my nose. It will be repayment for the bark I took from the tree.
Pawing away the snow near my tree I open my mouth to allow the water to fall to the ground. Standing with quiet satisfaction I watch the water disappear as the tree soaks it up.
"Now quit your fussing," my voice is smooth with a much softer tone. I almost sound fatherly, "Drink up. Spring will come once more." Time has a soft spot for trees. These scraggly saplings will see many more seasons. Trees are the sentinels for Father Time, keeping watch for centuries on end. Perhaps this one can put in a good word for me.
Hiccups bounce from my throat and skip through the quiet landscape.
@Zandora
