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09-03-2015, 10:24 AM
A half sleep. Half awake. Part drowned in continuing pain radiating on his neck and limb. The torturous heat kept burning into him, singeing nerves and eating at the strength and grace his body held. The other part drowned in the scene distant from him. His earth eyes unfocused as they watch the healing of the bird, and Ampere’s frustrations. As he looked over the blood dripping from the blades and leaves like worthless rain, unaware of its own cost and value being more precious than gold. Even a body or two lay upon the floor, one black one he knew as being of the mountains. But it doesn’t draw sadness or pain, it only turned a wash with the rest in a melding of senselessness. Reality can’t be lived this way though, so it come to break his statue gaze. A hot body knocks into his. Crowned head hisses and rises quick with the fight, but it defeats itself. Body screams, arresting his anger and shutting his face back away. It contorts with loss of breath and retreats back away from the threat. Body turning back, revealing in his limp and neck the cause of his agony. He truly was not himself. All these mistakes he was making. Amazing what even a short battle can do to creatures. What masks it can tear away. Head back low, and lungs gasping back his breath he hears the creature speak. Harks turn to her, but it’s a moment before his eyes can follow. They pin back though just as he sees her and find her tone. It was so separate from this scene and place. So foreign from the mortality this place should bring reminders of. Earth eyes find this creature in a returning clarity from the blur of his struggle. In dull roaming glances he finds the great bows growing from her back and her eyes purer than the driven snow. Mind finally processes her question, and fits her, with her strange looks, to her place. But as you might guess, he wasn’t exactly in the mood for a polite, objective conversation here. Pain, the reminder of your mortality, tends to take that possibility away. “No honey it’s for the carnival that’s coming to town.” He spat, voice edged with the pain her collision was still echoing through him. “I see you’re planning to join as well.” Body begged for easement, standing still, though keeping away the pain, was agony on its own. He shifts his weight, hissing a sigh as he does, and it seems to bring some sort of non-ass-hole back. And he notices something on her neck as well. “God you look awful.” Well that was the pot calling the kettle black. Guess we’re all making idiots of ourselves today. "talk talk talk" OOC:: Thought we might continue this maybe? =D Identities:: Isopia, Erebos, Cashmere Thranduil
His words are clever and bright
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@Crescencia
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