02-06-2016, 12:54 AM
everyone i know goes away in the end.
His composure seemed rigid - his forelimbs were strong, muscular and set sternly onto the fertile soil of the field. The swaying stalks of golden wheat lapped gently at his skin, tickling him, though he remained still and stoic. His spine, though naturally curved, was particularly still, locking him in place as he studied the land with disdain - the only flutter of movement came from his tangled tendrils of obsidian, which moved with the breeze against the nape of his neck. A trickle of sweat trailed down along his scarred cheek, marring his dark coat with its dampness - though it was not unusually warm out, a deeply set anxiety began to rise to the surface.
The memories flooded back with a fierce force that left him almost breathless. He had not stepped foot onto the land in many years, and the pain that remained interlaced in each familiar (and altogether unfamiliar - what had happened to these lands?) rock and low-hanging branch caused a stirring ache deep within his chest-battering heart. Having lived nearly twelve decades, he had seen many things, most of which made him ache for death - but its embrace was always so far out of reach. The unattainable. The impossible.
Instead, he was forced to live with his many regrets. He was forced to live, and breathe, while those he had once loved no longer did. His existence seemed futile in the grand scheme of things, and a trench of self-loathing had been dug deep into his soul. He could not bear to relive such vivid, excruciating memories, and instead pushed himself to simply exist. Nothing more, nothing less. The yearning and suffering could not envelope him if he kept himself preoccupied. Breathe. Sleep. Breathe. Eating did little for him - even starvation could not strip away his immortality, and he had tried more times than he could count.
He had loved, he had lost. And he had little to show for it.
His lids closed slowly over his crimson eyes as he lowered his head, the same dreadlocks of hair brushed across his marked and marred cheek. The various scars littered his skin, leaving him defaced. Disfigured. Blemished and imperfect. He could feel the warm breeze sliding across his skin as the sunlight bored into him, warming him in a way he hadn't felt in some time. It could not, however, touch the icy glaze over his heart. Nonetheless, he basked, urging his dark thoughts away, lost and focused on nothing but the warm rays of heat and the soft caress of nature's hand.
The memories flooded back with a fierce force that left him almost breathless. He had not stepped foot onto the land in many years, and the pain that remained interlaced in each familiar (and altogether unfamiliar - what had happened to these lands?) rock and low-hanging branch caused a stirring ache deep within his chest-battering heart. Having lived nearly twelve decades, he had seen many things, most of which made him ache for death - but its embrace was always so far out of reach. The unattainable. The impossible.
Instead, he was forced to live with his many regrets. He was forced to live, and breathe, while those he had once loved no longer did. His existence seemed futile in the grand scheme of things, and a trench of self-loathing had been dug deep into his soul. He could not bear to relive such vivid, excruciating memories, and instead pushed himself to simply exist. Nothing more, nothing less. The yearning and suffering could not envelope him if he kept himself preoccupied. Breathe. Sleep. Breathe. Eating did little for him - even starvation could not strip away his immortality, and he had tried more times than he could count.
He had loved, he had lost. And he had little to show for it.
His lids closed slowly over his crimson eyes as he lowered his head, the same dreadlocks of hair brushed across his marked and marred cheek. The various scars littered his skin, leaving him defaced. Disfigured. Blemished and imperfect. He could feel the warm breeze sliding across his skin as the sunlight bored into him, warming him in a way he hadn't felt in some time. It could not, however, touch the icy glaze over his heart. Nonetheless, he basked, urging his dark thoughts away, lost and focused on nothing but the warm rays of heat and the soft caress of nature's hand.
offspring
