wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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Ooc —
Master Ranger
Tactician
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January 22, 2020, 02:39 PM
(This post was last modified: January 22, 2020, 02:51 PM by Andraste.)
His mouthless gift was attended by a gaze softened with sleep and a soul-fragment that had been long silenced. Recital, now:
“On a venture from my Vale, there was an ... altercation concerning mine comrade and a loner who frothed incessant from ze throat.” All the while poring o’er generous heft of felled opal, woven with fine-plucked quailfeathers.
“What symptoms I garnered was that its host was overwhelmed by some ruinous stage. Deafened, perhaps, and met all instances to quell him with a cross of fangs. I know of no name that entails such a diseased nature, nor of concoctions for cures. Its origins, lesser; how many roam these mountains, even less,” weighing it now careful within jaws.
Drowsily, then:
“Pray you be well, @Mahler.”
Soon would it be that the charcoal smudge would hone again ‘round vainglorious gaze she had all but forgotten.
Delegate departs, and all is left quite alone, then ... until realization arises late, too late, via somnolent, half-seasoned, decadent daydreaming that the golem perhaps had scented her meager writhing on the mountain near his harem of a hollow; frost rushes in as dread, dread! for wait!
Wait! lashes unveil wide, girlish eyes— heart in throat clambering to tongue to pry her lips to mend her error!—
and Undómiel gulped down the fluttering, bated thing in abashed realization that her flown-far emissary was not the only things that had awayed from her. She was left staring—
“Scheiße–!”
—and smacking snowshoe paw to silence her own improper shriek, the red of her skin enough to near pink the whites of her eyes. Aquiver, now awake!; all freudian and tongue-tripp'd.
Soon would it be that no more messengers were able enough to act courier, and she would be ever affrighted of such a day.
Would that she could too snatch with white knuckles the telegram back!
“On a venture from my Vale, there was an ... altercation concerning mine comrade and a loner who frothed incessant from ze throat.” All the while poring o’er generous heft of felled opal, woven with fine-plucked quailfeathers.
“What symptoms I garnered was that its host was overwhelmed by some ruinous stage. Deafened, perhaps, and met all instances to quell him with a cross of fangs. I know of no name that entails such a diseased nature, nor of concoctions for cures. Its origins, lesser; how many roam these mountains, even less,” weighing it now careful within jaws.
Drowsily, then:
“Pray you be well, @Mahler.”
Soon would it be that the charcoal smudge would hone again ‘round vainglorious gaze she had all but forgotten.
Delegate departs, and all is left quite alone, then ... until realization arises late, too late, via somnolent, half-seasoned, decadent daydreaming that the golem perhaps had scented her meager writhing on the mountain near his harem of a hollow; frost rushes in as dread, dread! for wait!
Wait! lashes unveil wide, girlish eyes— heart in throat clambering to tongue to pry her lips to mend her error!—
and Undómiel gulped down the fluttering, bated thing in abashed realization that her flown-far emissary was not the only things that had awayed from her. She was left staring—
“Scheiße–!”
—and smacking snowshoe paw to silence her own improper shriek, the red of her skin enough to near pink the whites of her eyes. Aquiver, now awake!; all freudian and tongue-tripp'd.
Soon would it be that no more messengers were able enough to act courier, and she would be ever affrighted of such a day.
Would that she could too snatch with white knuckles the telegram back!
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