.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
08-23-2015, 05:34 AM
[ Apologies if this sucks, it's a bit too much of a thread to read through properly and react to everything... :( ]
The world yawns wider.
He was vaguely aware of moving.
Come!
It echoed around in his head like a bouncing ball, come come come come come come, excitement blurring the lines between where one word ended and the next began.
He was pleasantly stuck in a state halfway between sleep and wakefulness until two things happened: Diego screeched in his ear, and the world trembled to the sound of a wet drum.
Blue eyes snapped wide-open. He was out on the Thistle Meadow (when had he gone there?), the sky was—well, the sky was the sky, but his owls were screeching and before he even knew what he was doing he was running.
He followed them blindly and it let him to a scene he had not expected to ever see; the God of Spark, bleeding in a pool of red. Elding, holding a sword. Ophelia, Nyx. A few other half-familiar faces. And lots of weird creepers looking lost.
Okay, they weren't that weird—they were colorful and different, with growths, changing coats, outlandish in a way that he mostly found artful or interesting.
He knew where he had to go, though. First he passed Nyx, touching her shoulder in greeting. Then Ophelia, offering her his muzzle, but not pushing it—would not be hurt if she did not greet him back. Then, eyeing the bleeding God warily, he moved up to Roskuld—
—and that's when all hell breaks loose for him.
The world yawns wider.
He was vaguely aware of moving.
Come!
It echoed around in his head like a bouncing ball, come come come come come come, excitement blurring the lines between where one word ended and the next began.
He was pleasantly stuck in a state halfway between sleep and wakefulness until two things happened: Diego screeched in his ear, and the world trembled to the sound of a wet drum.
Blue eyes snapped wide-open. He was out on the Thistle Meadow (when had he gone there?), the sky was—well, the sky was the sky, but his owls were screeching and before he even knew what he was doing he was running.
He followed them blindly and it let him to a scene he had not expected to ever see; the God of Spark, bleeding in a pool of red. Elding, holding a sword. Ophelia, Nyx. A few other half-familiar faces. And lots of weird creepers looking lost.
Okay, they weren't that weird—they were colorful and different, with growths, changing coats, outlandish in a way that he mostly found artful or interesting.
He knew where he had to go, though. First he passed Nyx, touching her shoulder in greeting. Then Ophelia, offering her his muzzle, but not pushing it—would not be hurt if she did not greet him back. Then, eyeing the bleeding God warily, he moved up to Roskuld—
—and that's when all hell breaks loose for him.
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 . . .
