My friend makes rings, she swirls and sings - Vanquish/any.

[munroe]

We've become desolate. It's not enough, it never is.
Living is hard enough without you fucking up.

He was one with the deserts.

Although the wild child had not been born here in this barren landscape, it was almost difficult for him to remember his brief stint in the meadow. He still faintly remembered the feelings of despair and fear, but those had been drowned and diluted with those of his love and his happiness here in the deserts and with Ima.

He was lucky to remain light-colored which did not absorb the blazing desert sun like the black dragon-king’s would. His sandy coat was blemished with swirling azure designs upon his hindquarters and his slightly darker dun markings. His coat remained thin all year round for he did not make it a habit to venture out from his home. He’s learned that only troublesome things remained outside the desert and he was not interested in putting himself into any more situations.

This is why he only interacted with Ima and his foxy friends.

Strangers only spelled trouble.

And yet it seems he can never truly escape it.

Hazel eyes stare guardedly at the young girl who feverishly drinks from the small oasis. He briefly glances down to shake his head at his two small companions who rested on their haunches at his feet before he moves forward to confront the stranger. His strides across the sand are much smoother and quieter than the outsider’s and the wild child takes great care in taking a cautious approach from behind the girl. It was always better to have the upper hand in these types of confrontations.

“You stranger,” he proclaims.

MUNROE

it's easy to fall apart completely