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01-10-2015, 10:23 AM
Midas There was no masking the rustle of bush and snapping of twigs. This body unintentionally flinched, the flesh stiffened; wary (and with good reason) of who crept in the dark. Both ears automatically pricked, ashy lids opened to reveal a glazed expression that was both distant and present. A wary spark flickering beneath a bed of ash. Somewhere in the dark behind me, another pair of gems open to look my way. Our minds are linked with forced caution, the memory of evil and innocent blood was still fresh upon both our hearts. Though the essence on wind is of mountain air and moss. Not of acidic copper and rancid meat. A silver queen, cloaked with sunfire approaches. Fina relaxes and in the same moment I released my pent breath. Yar, was she an angel of death or my salvation? A name, whispered softly. My muzzle stretches, flaring warmly as velvet soft hairs tremble in anticipation. Reaching though in eve with a base desire to bury my face against her warm fur, "Africa?" How could one word seem so passively surrendering? She hasn't left. There isn't even a breath of -him- on her; tis as if their reunion was nothing but a daydream. Something unreal, a fragment of madness and withheld grief born from a heartsick mind. I watch as though looking through a mirror, her body slides forward -- buckling to the soft flora. These lips purse into a concerned frown when an unsavory taste of salt strikes my palate via the passing breeze. Lids widen, the hazy pools sharpen to linger on the silhouette of one curved cheek. Even this dim darkness can't mask those stains from my gaze,"What is it?" velvet reaches to brush away pain, erase that stained section of fur. Soothingly I whisper, "Why weep?" @Africa  Some legends are told Some turn to dust or to gold |
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