* COMPLETE; ewewew. this should be the end of the thread. if confusing: she basically saw an old acquaintance and booked it, choosing to leave with xanthos to the edge. ( translations: kući, moj dom: home, my home; utočište: refuge, sanctuary )
'I think we all were lost as we stepped into this place.' You click your tongue, skepticism clouding your mind almost before she is even finished with the sentence. You could scold her, point out the ignorance in her false wisdom, but you hold your tongue, a coolness creeping into the depths of your eyes. As she unfolds her wings you nearly flinch, watching passively as the dust spreads across the dark ground with a guarded enthusiasm, ears swiveling as she speaks her name, only to be interrupted by a man, clothed in silk and satin. You simply watch, as you had when she came to you, offering nothing but the acknowledgement of his presence, though you shake your head as he speaks. Why come? You do not wish for them to know of the things that you wander from, and so you murmur, to yourself more than anyone: 'Kući, moj dom; everything and nothing.' Of the way you love(d) him, so much so that you did not wish to ever see his face again, hear his name, feel his touch, the burning. Turning again to the girl as she repeats a name, you examine the sudden shift of wings as he claims refuge, utočište, causing an ill feeling to again churn in your belly. It is merely a shadow at first, a stray gust of wind that catches you off-guard, snaps your attention away from the pair. It is simply a silhouette, and you inhale sharply as you feel your heart plummet within your chest, a strangling pressure arising as you forget to breathe. Panic-stricken, you lunge away, swiveling on avian-boned legs which move swiftly beneath you without question. 'Xanthos, show me.' You do not wait for an answer, nor does your retreat slow.
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
