cyron’s devours the hare and regrets it a moment later as he takes a step back and plops down without finesse upon his haunches as his stomach turns violently and he draws his tongue across his lips in small, rapid rasps of his tongue, trying to bid his stomach not to expel the food. nothing had ever tasted so good before and he doesn’t want to spoil it with the lingering taste of vomit. cyron’s dull chestnut eyes look to the older man as he begins to question him, asking first where he comes from. cyron assumes that he does not mean where he was born but where he’d been running from. the sterling garbed saefyn gestures sharply in the direction of blackfeather woods and the guard hairs at his nape bristle as he looks back to the place that is full of wolves each more twisted than the last. the place where death was a welcomed reprieve from life. stay away, cyron’s tense and hostile body language communicates, muzzle still pointed in the woods’ direction like a hunting dog pointing out the position of foul. no. not lost his posture relaxes ever so slightly, though looking back has put him on edge. he doesn’t want to look back lest he receded back into himself again. no, he can’t afford to be hollow again. going home, this time cyron looks in easthollow’s general direction.
the ivory garbed man has given cyron no reason to distrust him, even brought him some food as to which cyron is indebted to him for, certainly, but the offer to help has cyron hesitating. the road to hell was paved with good intentions and cyron has just escaped a hell. he’s left in the purgatory of uncertainty and lingering there puts him in a terrible position of needing to rely on others and hating that he as to extend that sliver of trust when he doesn’t want to; when everything within him tells him not to. it’s far from personal, rather, just cyron having learned his lesson in the most terrible of ways. how? cyron inquires with the rise of his ears and minuscule bird-like cant of his head.
the ivory garbed man has given cyron no reason to distrust him, even brought him some food as to which cyron is indebted to him for, certainly, but the offer to help has cyron hesitating. the road to hell was paved with good intentions and cyron has just escaped a hell. he’s left in the purgatory of uncertainty and lingering there puts him in a terrible position of needing to rely on others and hating that he as to extend that sliver of trust when he doesn’t want to; when everything within him tells him not to. it’s far from personal, rather, just cyron having learned his lesson in the most terrible of ways. how? cyron inquires with the rise of his ears and minuscule bird-like cant of his head.
war ate a boy
and spat out a man
and spat out a man
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Messages In This Thread
what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Cyron - December 30, 2017, 12:38 PM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Phocion - December 30, 2017, 03:12 PM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Cyron - December 31, 2017, 05:45 AM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Phocion - December 31, 2017, 01:10 PM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Cyron - December 31, 2017, 01:44 PM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Phocion - December 31, 2017, 05:09 PM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Cyron - January 01, 2018, 04:17 AM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Phocion - January 08, 2018, 12:24 PM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Cyron - January 10, 2018, 04:18 AM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Phocion - January 17, 2018, 10:37 PM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Cyron - January 20, 2018, 04:00 AM
RE: what i had once mistaken for death was, instead, a door - by Phocion - January 25, 2018, 10:46 PM