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02-08-2015, 03:17 PM
I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
So as it turned out, there were lots of other kids in the Throat.
Well, a few, which was still pretty awesome. Ma was off training again, which she was always doing, the colt was pretty sure, but that was okay because she had a job being the best fighter in the entire herd. It just meant he has to entertain himself a little, find some source of amusement that would be both awesome and not make Ma mad (again).
He found the group of foals because they were loud, their young voices piercing the clear air and enticing him with fingers of tempting fun. He hadn't met any of the other kids yet. Were they all friends already? Was he gonna have to prove himself to get into the club? Did they have a club? If not, maybe he could make one. Zèklè picked his hooves into a lopsided lope, scrambling excitedly through the sand and dirt, using his wing to balance in a strange, half-formed way that worked for him but looked ridiculous. Would there be any Grown Ups there?
Nope. Score!
He was the smallest one there, but he didn't care. His sunbeam eyes lit up with excitement as he looked at them, all five of them, and knew that this was gonna be the start of a most epic day, and that he was gonna be there to enjoy the whole thing, and that Ma was gonna think it was so cool when he told her later.
From his vantage point on a neighboring dune, he shouted, calling to the group around the Diviner's fire. "Hey!" his voice rang, loud and bright, joyful and young and free of the trials which plagued poor Grown Ups, free of anxiety or worry or fear.
He started down the hill, walking, running, scrambling inelegantly, quickly, his eyes suddenly as big as saucers and his ears held high in alarm. Panic spread across his face. Oh shit oh shitohshitoHSHITOHSSHIT HOW DO I STOP?
Turns out, he didn't.
Like an unstoppable force he barreled down the hill, shouting, laughter and panic mixing in his narrow chest. "HEY LOOK OUT!" the boy screamed, closing his eyes against inevitable impact as he went flying, flailing, directly through the assembled group, tripping and sprawling onto the sand. Was he dead? Was he dying?
He coughed, and began to laugh.
"That... was... AWESOME!"
Well, a few, which was still pretty awesome. Ma was off training again, which she was always doing, the colt was pretty sure, but that was okay because she had a job being the best fighter in the entire herd. It just meant he has to entertain himself a little, find some source of amusement that would be both awesome and not make Ma mad (again).
He found the group of foals because they were loud, their young voices piercing the clear air and enticing him with fingers of tempting fun. He hadn't met any of the other kids yet. Were they all friends already? Was he gonna have to prove himself to get into the club? Did they have a club? If not, maybe he could make one. Zèklè picked his hooves into a lopsided lope, scrambling excitedly through the sand and dirt, using his wing to balance in a strange, half-formed way that worked for him but looked ridiculous. Would there be any Grown Ups there?
Nope. Score!
He was the smallest one there, but he didn't care. His sunbeam eyes lit up with excitement as he looked at them, all five of them, and knew that this was gonna be the start of a most epic day, and that he was gonna be there to enjoy the whole thing, and that Ma was gonna think it was so cool when he told her later.
From his vantage point on a neighboring dune, he shouted, calling to the group around the Diviner's fire. "Hey!" his voice rang, loud and bright, joyful and young and free of the trials which plagued poor Grown Ups, free of anxiety or worry or fear.
He started down the hill, walking, running, scrambling inelegantly, quickly, his eyes suddenly as big as saucers and his ears held high in alarm. Panic spread across his face. Oh shit oh shitohshitoHSHITOHSSHIT HOW DO I STOP?
Turns out, he didn't.
Like an unstoppable force he barreled down the hill, shouting, laughter and panic mixing in his narrow chest. "HEY LOOK OUT!" the boy screamed, closing his eyes against inevitable impact as he went flying, flailing, directly through the assembled group, tripping and sprawling onto the sand. Was he dead? Was he dying?
He coughed, and began to laugh.
"That... was... AWESOME!"
Z è K L è
am i more than you bargained for yet?
am i more than you bargained for yet?
