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10-22-2012, 09:25 PM
If our prince had not been made so callous, he might feel sad and scared most of the time. Our dwarf did not have much to speak of in muscle, except the broad muscles connecting his wings to the defective, crumpled frame upon which they were hinged. On the ground, Enki has the grace of a drunk rhinocerous, so it would be no wonder if he cowered in fear of others. What would make one so small stand so tall? Of course, it comes from the love that is still buried deep in the recesses of that stone heart. What fuels courage but confidence? What fuels confidence but love? Because no one could ever love such a wretched beast, many would just assume our prince was daft. This was not uncommon, especially when the stallion was young. A disfigurement of the body was seen as equal to a disfigurement of the mind, but she knew our Prince better. She knew, so he believes very much in his mind. Gritty, cold, and bitter - his mind is still a sanctuary, where there would be no crossing. This young stallion, pitch black, is amusing to our beloved, though. He holds himself with an awkward stance, almost as if more was wrong with him than just his mute mouth. Our Enki does not really believe that being mute is an impairment; rather, he would probably think those who are incapable of stopping their words are the ones with a problem. Unfortunately, he has found that nearly every idiot in this forsaken land was absolutely in love with the sound of their own voice - something he would rather not know. This silent colt is surprisingly refreshing company, even if the initial gawking had put the dirty midget in a state of unease. Now, the almost comical lull of the dead tongue from the mouth of the boy brings a smirk. Two cripples, staring each other in the face. For once, our favorite mask of stone seems soft, almost alive. Standing tall, a small, deformed statue, our prince takes the nudge of the black colt to the shoulder, almost worried the inky black of his tail also poured from his muzzle. The filth would not matter much, for even as the water had washed away many caked layers, the white splotches revealed below were still tinged a strange sooty yellow. Prancing forward, an ease of movement, this boy juts forth from out beloved, leaving a warm kiss of breath on his damp skin. The swirling of the black tail touches the sand, leaving behind swirls of flowers. Our prince watches the ground with a small smile, before taking up a shuffling of his gnarled limbs to move forward as well. This dark stallion's reality was full of flowers, but they were like a funeral procession garbed in black. As our prince shuffles past each row, a crackling noise begins. The stems of flowers turn shades of green from lime to emerald, glittering in the sunlight from above. Petals burst into an array of colors, some deep pinks and others pure white. Spikey, crystalline flowers, outlined by the artist and colored in by the cynic, are left like a trail on the beach, and our Enki gives a quick flash of a wink toward the unlikely company he has found. "You should invest in some different colored paint." A gruff laugh gurgles in his larynx. ooc: monday is kind of like saturday, right? xP |
