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02-27-2015, 04:46 PM
@[Artorius]
(OOC: Please forgive all the rust).
There is a twisting of arterial roads, muscles and sinew bunching and tensing before each earth-shattering punch as feet fly and land, fly and land, scattering dirt, dust, and vegetation. My dear one whips his skull with the joy of flight, for though few things left to him give him such sincere pleasure, this is his favorite. A run to clear one's head. A run to celebrate the air in one's lungs. And lo, though he hasn't wings, he still does his best to fly...
And in his flight, he lets loose a wild cry, a "wheeeee" of sorts, a triumphant shout to show that he is excited merely to exist. It is a strange feeling that causes his pure glee, a playful mood he hasn't had in a while. A pulling and tugging at his heart that makes him gloriously excited. It is an odd thing, as he is so used to the previous sorrow that it has become a part of him--a heavy panther on his back, ready to strike a fatal-blow at a moment's notice. But it appears that today he has shaken it off, and he gives himself a literal shake in the sunlight. His three white-dipped feet and white-striped face flash, his chestnut body transforming from dried-blood to a gold-bright orange in the sparkling light. Maybe he's born with it...
Perhaps the light was all that was required to change him, the clouds disappearing with a sigh to let the sun peek down finally at the earth... Maybe this was all he'd really needed? He pauses to dance a curious little jig in place, neck curling serpentine-like, nose aimed towards his chest. He flicks his tail upright as it shines in rivers of rusty-red, showing off for no one...
Then, he strikes a rock with a hoof and promptly scares himself, tripping with his usual grace (or lack thereof), barely catching himself as he springs sideways to keep from falling over. Idiot. He snorts, certain no one saw that, and walks on, feeling a little sorry for himself.
The notion of time had become uncertain, days blending into one another, and Far forgot how long it had been since he'd first crossed the broken wall of the Edge with Evangeline (and her dragon friend, which he'd definitely not forgotten). Things had seemed so depressing lately and Far was a bundle of nerves as it was, so anxiety took hold of him easily, gripping his otherwise firm frame and shaking it. Now, for the first time in quite a while, he was beginning to see just how pointless that anxiety and depression was, for it stilled one, taking away motion and pulling one out of the light. It dulled one, never allowing them to feel, never letting them succeed even at the things they felt they most excelled. So he was giving up. It was still painful that he had lost everything he'd loved before, but in its place he had gained something new. He'd gained a new home, new comrades, new beings to cherish and protect. There was something about being able to protect someone that gave him a reason to breathe. And now he felt needed, and that did more for him than even a run in the sunlight could do.
Perhaps that was it, then... He needed to feel useful. After all, his body was a tool to use, his heart a box for safe-keeping, his mind a log to remember... And it was finally now that he saw this. There was a purpose here. He could be a soldier again, he could stop feeling like a burden and start doing something. And if nothing else, that was what kept him alive. That and the god or two that laughed at his jester's clumsiness.
He pauses to scent the earth and crop a few blades of dry grass. Though certainly unforgiving, Far found the heat somewhat soothing. It had seemed a long period of cold leading up to the renewed fire of summer and the heat was a very welcome change, a defrost for his frozen mindset. Maybe with the change of weather and mood, he would find the being he'd all but lost and finally start his new life...
(OOC: Please forgive all the rust).
There is a twisting of arterial roads, muscles and sinew bunching and tensing before each earth-shattering punch as feet fly and land, fly and land, scattering dirt, dust, and vegetation. My dear one whips his skull with the joy of flight, for though few things left to him give him such sincere pleasure, this is his favorite. A run to clear one's head. A run to celebrate the air in one's lungs. And lo, though he hasn't wings, he still does his best to fly...
And in his flight, he lets loose a wild cry, a "wheeeee" of sorts, a triumphant shout to show that he is excited merely to exist. It is a strange feeling that causes his pure glee, a playful mood he hasn't had in a while. A pulling and tugging at his heart that makes him gloriously excited. It is an odd thing, as he is so used to the previous sorrow that it has become a part of him--a heavy panther on his back, ready to strike a fatal-blow at a moment's notice. But it appears that today he has shaken it off, and he gives himself a literal shake in the sunlight. His three white-dipped feet and white-striped face flash, his chestnut body transforming from dried-blood to a gold-bright orange in the sparkling light. Maybe he's born with it...
Perhaps the light was all that was required to change him, the clouds disappearing with a sigh to let the sun peek down finally at the earth... Maybe this was all he'd really needed? He pauses to dance a curious little jig in place, neck curling serpentine-like, nose aimed towards his chest. He flicks his tail upright as it shines in rivers of rusty-red, showing off for no one...
Then, he strikes a rock with a hoof and promptly scares himself, tripping with his usual grace (or lack thereof), barely catching himself as he springs sideways to keep from falling over. Idiot. He snorts, certain no one saw that, and walks on, feeling a little sorry for himself.
The notion of time had become uncertain, days blending into one another, and Far forgot how long it had been since he'd first crossed the broken wall of the Edge with Evangeline (and her dragon friend, which he'd definitely not forgotten). Things had seemed so depressing lately and Far was a bundle of nerves as it was, so anxiety took hold of him easily, gripping his otherwise firm frame and shaking it. Now, for the first time in quite a while, he was beginning to see just how pointless that anxiety and depression was, for it stilled one, taking away motion and pulling one out of the light. It dulled one, never allowing them to feel, never letting them succeed even at the things they felt they most excelled. So he was giving up. It was still painful that he had lost everything he'd loved before, but in its place he had gained something new. He'd gained a new home, new comrades, new beings to cherish and protect. There was something about being able to protect someone that gave him a reason to breathe. And now he felt needed, and that did more for him than even a run in the sunlight could do.
Perhaps that was it, then... He needed to feel useful. After all, his body was a tool to use, his heart a box for safe-keeping, his mind a log to remember... And it was finally now that he saw this. There was a purpose here. He could be a soldier again, he could stop feeling like a burden and start doing something. And if nothing else, that was what kept him alive. That and the god or two that laughed at his jester's clumsiness.
He pauses to scent the earth and crop a few blades of dry grass. Though certainly unforgiving, Far found the heat somewhat soothing. It had seemed a long period of cold leading up to the renewed fire of summer and the heat was a very welcome change, a defrost for his frozen mindset. Maybe with the change of weather and mood, he would find the being he'd all but lost and finally start his new life...
