And I looked and behold a pale horse
His name that sat on him was Death and Hell followed with him
His name that sat on him was Death and Hell followed with him
Above the murmur of the minds in the distance, one voice clarifies through his own aimless musings. Flickers of thought, blinking in and out of existence like evening fireflies. And like fireflies, so to did these thoughts carry the subtle notion of nostalgia with them. There was too much similarity to his own reflections to be easily ignored.
Still balefully working a mouthful of forage through his mouth, the tangle-maned youth raised his head in mild curiosity, eyes lighting on the golden figure that had paused near his resting place. A trace of amusement crossed his face as the suggestion of flurrying wings danced across his mind.
Almost accidentally, his own wings rustled against his back. I could follow you, the gesture implied. He wasn't sure that he would, really. That he was able to was enough for him.
Instead, his posture slackened. The curiosity remained in his expression, playing off the shocking brightness of his eyes, the light dancing from his fiery crown. He looked like an angel of the very darkest sort, and it was something of a direct contrast to this girl who seemed as flawless as the sunrise.
After a lengthy beat, it became clear that she had no intention of starting conversation, and he wondered how long he would have to be silent before her commitment would break. What sort of anxious, racing thoughts would she produce in the meantime? It was a game he'd played before, but there were other ways to spend his time. So he smiled and opened his mouth instead.
"Can I help you?" He asked, tone neutral. She was another face (albeit a very pretty one), another mind among many, and if he could help her, well. That just might be a miracle.
Still balefully working a mouthful of forage through his mouth, the tangle-maned youth raised his head in mild curiosity, eyes lighting on the golden figure that had paused near his resting place. A trace of amusement crossed his face as the suggestion of flurrying wings danced across his mind.
Almost accidentally, his own wings rustled against his back. I could follow you, the gesture implied. He wasn't sure that he would, really. That he was able to was enough for him.
Instead, his posture slackened. The curiosity remained in his expression, playing off the shocking brightness of his eyes, the light dancing from his fiery crown. He looked like an angel of the very darkest sort, and it was something of a direct contrast to this girl who seemed as flawless as the sunrise.
After a lengthy beat, it became clear that she had no intention of starting conversation, and he wondered how long he would have to be silent before her commitment would break. What sort of anxious, racing thoughts would she produce in the meantime? It was a game he'd played before, but there were other ways to spend his time. So he smiled and opened his mouth instead.
"Can I help you?" He asked, tone neutral. She was another face (albeit a very pretty one), another mind among many, and if he could help her, well. That just might be a miracle.
@Aloy