Greatwater Lake So yo ass better show me some respect

hope you don't mind me!

 fragile as frozen glass, not yet reinforced with frame nor primed with age, shimmering with tears and rippling with the butterfly kisses of others' actions, one's existence is as shallow and as inconsistent as so many grains of sand that make up its constitution. beating with a rhythm almost tangible to grasping hands, those which would tamper with its folds, choosing to develop or to destroy. singing with a pristine resonance, a crystal's ring upon contact with a partner object, sharp and solid. the reverberations can cause cracks, blemishes wrinkling the face of the glass in the discordant careening, forcing the grains within to resign to themselves ever further. the more they shake, the more they drift, the further the cracks splinter, and the worse the glass fairs. 

isolation's miserable weeping taps a sharp claw upon the edge of the glass, threatening their existence, cajoling the nerves, a wicked cackle in the lonely night. solitude is knocking on an unlockable door, forcing itself in with coercion, undeniable, impossible to ignore.

and as those cracks deepen, the punctures creating morose illustrations across the glass, it finally gives way, until there is nothing left. nothing left but a pathetically rejected life, a soul whose wandering leads to no destination, as there can be no destination for a creature with none to welcome it. 

his rubicund features are gaunt and piteous, and if one could truly see the glass of his soul, they would bear witness to something that has been rendered into two so cleanly it looks most deliberate. where the soul has been cut from the life he has led, the body twitches pathetically, the lungs breathe haggardly, the innards refuse to obey him, leaving him helpless, ravaged, incontinent.

he peels away from the myriad of clinging shadows where he had been seated, nearing the woman he had seemingly just found with as un-presumptuous an approach as an omega rightly would. he didn't know where she came from, or what she was doing, but he made his way over nonetheless. the male stinks of urine, of grungy muds, of every possible lack of hygiene. but he means well, and perhaps the would be enough. a single massive paw extends uncertainly towards her, as though in an offering of comfort. "the m-miss s-sits al-lone. w-why would th-the miss s-sit so?" her loneliness, or atleast, her boredness, picks at his old wounds, reading her very aura, comprehending. the red man cocks his head, those everwatching gold eyes inspecting her curiously.