.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
12-25-2016, 08:49 AM
Art by Neverr ♥
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
Bitterness tasted like dust in your mouth, a thin film coating your tongue, sand and gravel between your teeth and gums. And it didn't matter how much he drank, or how much he chewed on it—it didn't go away. It stayed there, stuck, a reminder of everything he hated about this world.
It was quite a lot, to be fair, and most of all he hated himself, and his heart.
He hated the muddied labyrinth of his own rage; missed the clean, sterile lines, the icy, logical perfection guiding his every action. The arrogance which gave him a cause, and enabled him to act. Without his racial bias, he was nothing, a sworn guardian who could not strike another because he had no right and words could settle everything but damned hearts turned to darkness—
And pride. Pride was poison, but Mauja was cut from his angry, frustrated musings by a call ringing out. It was a summons, for the leaders of this place, and Mauja's ears fell flat against his neck. He wasn't sure what he was; above the masses, but below his King and Queen? A pawn, nothing much but a shield, a bulwark, an arrow to shoot into the darkness... He let out a shaky breath, shook his head, tamed his demons. The diamond snowflakes in his mane clicked against one another, and he set out for the call.
It wasn't somebody he remembered—after seven years in a land where everyone came and went, he needed more than the mere notion of having been herd mates to tie them to his memory. He needed snatches of conversation, maybe names, something solid and not just a dun roan with white spots and a bronze dragon on his back. Mauja tilted his head to the side. Beneath the skin, the black currents ran dark and wild, but still he breathed calm and grace, patient as the world itself. A rugged winter coat hid the sharpest angles of his body, but a keen eye would notice the hollows in his flanks and hips, and just how hard he looked with all the bones so close to the surface.
"Hello," he said pleasantly, watching the stranger. "I am Mauja. What can I do for you?"
[ @Argen Silverline grandbebe <333 ]
It was quite a lot, to be fair, and most of all he hated himself, and his heart.
He hated the muddied labyrinth of his own rage; missed the clean, sterile lines, the icy, logical perfection guiding his every action. The arrogance which gave him a cause, and enabled him to act. Without his racial bias, he was nothing, a sworn guardian who could not strike another because he had no right and words could settle everything but damned hearts turned to darkness—
And pride. Pride was poison, but Mauja was cut from his angry, frustrated musings by a call ringing out. It was a summons, for the leaders of this place, and Mauja's ears fell flat against his neck. He wasn't sure what he was; above the masses, but below his King and Queen? A pawn, nothing much but a shield, a bulwark, an arrow to shoot into the darkness... He let out a shaky breath, shook his head, tamed his demons. The diamond snowflakes in his mane clicked against one another, and he set out for the call.
It wasn't somebody he remembered—after seven years in a land where everyone came and went, he needed more than the mere notion of having been herd mates to tie them to his memory. He needed snatches of conversation, maybe names, something solid and not just a dun roan with white spots and a bronze dragon on his back. Mauja tilted his head to the side. Beneath the skin, the black currents ran dark and wild, but still he breathed calm and grace, patient as the world itself. A rugged winter coat hid the sharpest angles of his body, but a keen eye would notice the hollows in his flanks and hips, and just how hard he looked with all the bones so close to the surface.
"Hello," he said pleasantly, watching the stranger. "I am Mauja. What can I do for you?"
[ @Argen Silverline grandbebe <333 ]
