01-24-2021, 09:17 PM
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Even with the cool promise of autumn coming in fast with its frosted grass and kaleidoscope-colored trees, Barrow has never felt warmer. Despite the water that the two dogs stand in that should be frigid and intolerable, he’s never felt more comfortable. He lives for happiness and laughter, and to spark it in the white and black woman in front of him is an added bonus. He thinks he could stay here all day splashing in the mountain lake and making memories with his favorite friend. Instead, he inadvertently touches on the one subject he should have avoided at all cost.
He even steps forward, foolishly, in order to be a better listener to whatever tale she will spin.
His smile falters with her’s. The moment she spirals down into her thoughts, he is right there beside her, wishing he could take it all back. What a fool! He chides himself over and over in his mind. Because he should have known that she hadn’t won. He should have known that a victor would have little time for gallivanting around in a lake with a nobody like him. A victor would have far more important things to do. Her name would have been heralded throughout the lands, or at least whispered from one ear to the other in awe.
She hadn’t won and he had reminded her of it.
“Maze, I’m sorry,” he says, hanging his head and letting his tail and triangular ears fall flat. Barrow misses the smile she attempts and only looks up when she promises to beat up her opponent. “You are the toughest person I know.” There is a heavy weight to his blue eyes that speaks of resolute honesty; he wants to make the heaviness in her own eyes go away though, he feels it is his responsibility.
With a weak smile that soon grows stronger, he induces a little happiness for himself and sends the majority of it Mazikeen’s way. It emboldens him, sends a pleasant tingle along his spine so that he reaches forward and licks the other dog’s cheek encouragingly. He draws back and adds, “I will be glad to follow you and bite his ankles, if you want me to.”
He even steps forward, foolishly, in order to be a better listener to whatever tale she will spin.
His smile falters with her’s. The moment she spirals down into her thoughts, he is right there beside her, wishing he could take it all back. What a fool! He chides himself over and over in his mind. Because he should have known that she hadn’t won. He should have known that a victor would have little time for gallivanting around in a lake with a nobody like him. A victor would have far more important things to do. Her name would have been heralded throughout the lands, or at least whispered from one ear to the other in awe.
She hadn’t won and he had reminded her of it.
“Maze, I’m sorry,” he says, hanging his head and letting his tail and triangular ears fall flat. Barrow misses the smile she attempts and only looks up when she promises to beat up her opponent. “You are the toughest person I know.” There is a heavy weight to his blue eyes that speaks of resolute honesty; he wants to make the heaviness in her own eyes go away though, he feels it is his responsibility.
With a weak smile that soon grows stronger, he induces a little happiness for himself and sends the majority of it Mazikeen’s way. It emboldens him, sends a pleasant tingle along his spine so that he reaches forward and licks the other dog’s cheek encouragingly. He draws back and adds, “I will be glad to follow you and bite his ankles, if you want me to.”
Barrow
@[Mazikeen]