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08-09-2015, 06:18 AM
[ Seconding thaaat, welcome! ]
Slowly—and he meant slowly because it sure as hell wasn't fast—the feeling of having been, well, asleep faded. It was the slow waking, of pulling oneself from the deepest, most remote corners of sleep, and it lingered, making him feel lethargic for long stretches of time. It was almost as if it told him to go back to sleep, and miss out on another season of his life.
He chose not to listen to it, though, and much as he tried to not think about it, he couldn't help but do it. Walking to the Threshold offered him way too much time to ponder it—what had happened? Was it all in his head? It seemed to have had some kind of effect, because the Edge seemed...emptier, but he was still King, no one had butted him off the throne so.. maybe everyone had gone through the same awkward hibernation..?
Blergh. He wasn't sure if he could ask anyone about it, either. 'Oh hi, you don't happen to feel like you've been asleep for a few months? No? Oh, forget about it then.' And besides, anything that had something to do with time left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd had enough of personal fuck-ups from that God.
So. Time to be productive! Yay!
Eurgh no. The lethargy clung to him, and the clouds blotted out the sun, and the sun was about the only thing these days that could re-vitalize his frizzled brain. "Why," he mouthed into the dismal snowfall, breath like white smoke. "Why, of all the things, why..?"
But he got no answer, and he didn't really know what he was asking about anyway.
He felt in no condition to recruit—his eyes were dull, unfocused, his movements slightly sluggish, matching the pace of his thoughts. They barely moved at all, stagnant like cold syrup, and at about the same time that he decided to call it quits and sleep on the spot—well, he'd already wandered upon something.
"Oh." Something about the startled softness of his voice, the way his forelock hung over his boyish face—he looked like something newly awoken, blinking owlishly. He didn't know either of them, but one—the young stallion—made something in his memories beg for his attention. He had seen that color scheme on a horse before...
"Hi," he went on, tongue flapping even though his mind hadn't caught up. "How are you?"
Gods what am I saying what am I doing what is going on—
Slowly—and he meant slowly because it sure as hell wasn't fast—the feeling of having been, well, asleep faded. It was the slow waking, of pulling oneself from the deepest, most remote corners of sleep, and it lingered, making him feel lethargic for long stretches of time. It was almost as if it told him to go back to sleep, and miss out on another season of his life.
He chose not to listen to it, though, and much as he tried to not think about it, he couldn't help but do it. Walking to the Threshold offered him way too much time to ponder it—what had happened? Was it all in his head? It seemed to have had some kind of effect, because the Edge seemed...emptier, but he was still King, no one had butted him off the throne so.. maybe everyone had gone through the same awkward hibernation..?
Blergh. He wasn't sure if he could ask anyone about it, either. 'Oh hi, you don't happen to feel like you've been asleep for a few months? No? Oh, forget about it then.' And besides, anything that had something to do with time left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd had enough of personal fuck-ups from that God.
So. Time to be productive! Yay!
Eurgh no. The lethargy clung to him, and the clouds blotted out the sun, and the sun was about the only thing these days that could re-vitalize his frizzled brain. "Why," he mouthed into the dismal snowfall, breath like white smoke. "Why, of all the things, why..?"
But he got no answer, and he didn't really know what he was asking about anyway.
He felt in no condition to recruit—his eyes were dull, unfocused, his movements slightly sluggish, matching the pace of his thoughts. They barely moved at all, stagnant like cold syrup, and at about the same time that he decided to call it quits and sleep on the spot—well, he'd already wandered upon something.
"Oh." Something about the startled softness of his voice, the way his forelock hung over his boyish face—he looked like something newly awoken, blinking owlishly. He didn't know either of them, but one—the young stallion—made something in his memories beg for his attention. He had seen that color scheme on a horse before...
"Hi," he went on, tongue flapping even though his mind hadn't caught up. "How are you?"
Gods what am I saying what am I doing what is going on—
lord, the demands you're making-
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
