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12-19-2015, 02:26 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-20-2016, 07:05 AM by Albrecht.
Edit Reason: Per Admin Request
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Albrecht Cold. Searing cold that slices into skin and muscle. Cold that whistles through bones as if they were hollow and bare to the world. Cold that stings, cold that cracks, cold that splinters the tears in his eyes before they fall. The cold gaze of betrayal buffeting his mind with more force than any gale. The sickly cold of fear, of sorrow, of being alone. Nothing but cold, cold, cold. A convulsive shudder racks the black mound to life. A head and neck materializes from the mass. Long copper hair falls from its chin, continues up the curve of the jaw and follows the line of the stallions throat down to the center of his shallow chest where it disappears beneath the huddle of his folded legs, though russet tips peeking here and there prove it to be an uninterrupted feature. Black ears lie sullenly backward, mimicking the curve of twin spiraling black horns erupting from his furrowed brow. Awareness does nothing to ease his mind. The nightmares are real and the waking hours just a continuation of their horrors. Green eyes stare dully outward, numb to the bright colors splashing the landscape around them. The ground is damp with moisture but still manages to be unforgivingly solid. "Fucking dirt for bedding and rocks for company. Happy fucking retirement.” Profanity feels alien in his mouth and adds an irritatingly awkward tone to his voice. He wasn’t used to cursing, but what reason did he have now for manners? "Not a fucking thing.” He spat the syllables this time, feeling they came across with much more conviction. His knees were aching and his hocks felt stiff enough to impregnate someone, but be damned if he was going to scrabble his way to all fours for no reason. Still glowering, he drops his chin to its former resting place and wills the sun to rise, warm his frigid hide, and magically put the pieces of his shattered life back together. The Curmudgeon |
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