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01-13-2015, 08:14 PM
I am not jealous of anyone who may stumble upon me. I am a wreck, a mass of trembling flesh ignorant of any purpose. I would not want to face the pathetic beast that wallows in his own misery ignorant of the needs of others, selfish in his own pity-party. But that's the predicament I present to others. Confrontation of this embarrassment? No one in the Throat would want to see me like this, to have this be the image of the stout Throat inhabitants. That is what this mare stumbles upon. Of course she wouldn't know what to do - who would? If it had been me I might have mocked the weeping form. Asked him where the hell his balls were and that he should man up and grow a pair. But that's not what she does. I hear her approach, step closer. The sand is quiet but does not perfectly muffle her movement. 'Sir?' I don't move, my mind not at first responding to her voice. My red eyes are dim and do not hold the life and hope that they had. But she has yet to see that, as I still hide my face beneath leathery flaps. She introduces herself, and offers her assistance. She's close to me, so I am careful about my movement as I swing my wing out to the side and back toward my body. Now she can see the loss in my eyes, my tear stained cheeks. Sand sticks to me awkwardly, clinging to the damp and tangling my mane. I murmur despondently, though I lift my head to make eye contact. "I cannot be helped, Morrigan." I let my head fall back to the sand, scattering it around gently. The feathers in my mane show more life as pieces of a corpse than the rest of me. I am embarrassed to be lying here in front of the healer, but I am too depressed to do shit about it. Walking "Talking" WC: 328 @[Morrigan] + any others? Satanic Silk |
![[Image: silkicon2_by_lainey_lou-d73bsek.png]](http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2014/022/e/b/silkicon2_by_lainey_lou-d73bsek.png)
Plot Thread
*You may do anything you wish with Silk excluding dismemberment and death.
