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06-21-2014, 01:37 AM
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I'm dead in the water, still looking for ya'
Mumbling. Muttering of words that are meant to have a meaning when made audible, not marred by the sobs. The maiden had not realized the snake was merely close to death - nor that it was actually more than a moment on the dirt for her to make comment of. But, still the mumbling was useless. Wishful. A wary snort wisped its way into Rasta's audits, and as she allowed her frame to press up against the one-winged's warm pelt she felt the welcoming comfort the pair brought each other. Whiskers wisp across her flesh as her name is breathed out from the leader and Rasta cannot help but to allow the ghost of a smile to whisk onto her maw. "Africa," she whispered in return before watching as the mare seemed to continue to wallow in whatever was wrapping her up in a pile of water from her own sobs. Perhaps she would stop soon enough to explain. Perhaps that was only wishful thinking. Death. Details do no fall from the dark drawl of the mare who is still driveling in her sobs. Does she dream of the pain that this darkness can inflict upon her? The dreariness of the days that can consume her deepest confines of her dripping heart. Decimated souls are damaged with holes from desperate pleas to drag those lost connections back to the diminishing light. Dare to take too long to deliver them the life they deserve and they will slip from your maw in the most devilish manner possible. Mercy does not become from the desecration of graves or the sheer lack of one. "I'm assuming the reptilian creation was but once your companion?" destined to fall into darker memories, Rasta forces her voice to remain level. She cannot risk allowing the tears to fall again, she cannot risk diving into the depths she might not return from. Death does not divinity make. Emotions. Every pore of her fibrous being is eliciting a response of wanting to escape. But, the error in her ways that would have resulted from that keep her rooted to the ground, wishing to enamor those near her and bring back the escaping idea of peace. "Perhaps she wished to save you from the errors of your ways? Of a failed attack that could have swung to the spectrum of a fatality for you?" Intelligent words for the enriched being who had seen too many years to be able to live without feeling far endangered in every situation. However, trying to escape and shut down one's mind could only enrage the palomino. She had never allowed herself shut down. In fact, when her emotions took over she was weaker - more at risk, and she had only dared to do it with Alleo or Cera at her side. Emotions could kill. Action. Anyone could see that a simple action might be the response to create the more awaited answer. "Give her a proper burial. Move. Assess the situation. Do not allow yourself to be overwhelmed. Grieve, when you are safe. Accept the death and accrue new knowledge from it…" Would she even allow her ears to take in the knowledge or would she attempt to ascertain that she knew far more than Rasta did. "I would know - I lost my own avian a while back, I am questing to acquire another, to attempt to fill the gaping hole…" Action was the best remedy. Revenge. We can only hope it does not return to the murderer with revenge on its mind. Revenge is one of the sickest curses of the devil. Revenge causes more pain than the original action itself… |
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Mystified, just spinning 'round in circles
Drowning in the silent screaming with nothing left to say
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Mystified, just spinning 'round in circles
Drowning in the silent screaming with nothing left to say
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