03-14-2016, 06:36 PM
He knew love.
He knew love had it’s beauty; the way it made someone feel, the power it fed them. However he also understood the consequences of such emotions, he knew the repercussions of falling in love and the impact it had on others. He saw love in it’s most mesmerizing way, for love was arguably the reason for his existence. But he also knew love was the suicide cause in every case. For every note hung, it read about a broken heart and an unmutual bond.
Love causes death, and nothing is more ugly than dying.
How would it feel to be “escaping”. How would it feel to be waking up at the touch of dawn, to meander from reach of a close one and hope they didn’t notice your absence? Opacity did not know. He knew the feeling of waking up whenever he so pleased only to be greeted by the fact no one would be waiting for him. He woke up knowing there was no where to be, no commitment to hold, no one to see.
It is both envious and treacherous. To be alone.
He feels her before he sees her. The soft push of rippled water curling at his side before calming into the serene pool, caused from her intrusion. Had he been a dog, hair would have been curled dauntingly between his shoulders, with a light snarl flashing pearly whites. He would be ferocious and daring. However he is a horse; prey. He has teeth meant for eating grass and breaking stalks, and only the threatening appearance of pinned ears for irritation. Instead, however, externally, his ears are rested sideways and his piercing hazel eyes holding her own.
She speaks, and her voice warms the air with a feminine glaze. Women did nothing for Opacity, it could even be argued he despises them. They are elegant and fragile, with carefully wired brains and hand sculpted frames. They have a touch of godliness, an aura of attraction. His mother had this fierce sense of energy that attracted powerful minds. Perhaps Quark got engulfed by the feeling of strength, perhaps she got tangled in mother’s mess of ferocity. Certainly his father did. Women, they had this intriguing air about them, it just smelt too sweet.
This one smelt sweet, but it would be like reaching down into a rose bush after the seventh time of doing so, and still being stabbed by thorns.
His acknowledgement to her is a slight blink, before swinging his head from her and letting his gaze return onto the peaceful lake. His gesture left her to decide. Opacity was no speaker, he never had been. It is questionable whether his vocal chords could still muster up a word. He hadn’t had to practiced.
He knew love had it’s beauty; the way it made someone feel, the power it fed them. However he also understood the consequences of such emotions, he knew the repercussions of falling in love and the impact it had on others. He saw love in it’s most mesmerizing way, for love was arguably the reason for his existence. But he also knew love was the suicide cause in every case. For every note hung, it read about a broken heart and an unmutual bond.
Love causes death, and nothing is more ugly than dying.
How would it feel to be “escaping”. How would it feel to be waking up at the touch of dawn, to meander from reach of a close one and hope they didn’t notice your absence? Opacity did not know. He knew the feeling of waking up whenever he so pleased only to be greeted by the fact no one would be waiting for him. He woke up knowing there was no where to be, no commitment to hold, no one to see.
It is both envious and treacherous. To be alone.
He feels her before he sees her. The soft push of rippled water curling at his side before calming into the serene pool, caused from her intrusion. Had he been a dog, hair would have been curled dauntingly between his shoulders, with a light snarl flashing pearly whites. He would be ferocious and daring. However he is a horse; prey. He has teeth meant for eating grass and breaking stalks, and only the threatening appearance of pinned ears for irritation. Instead, however, externally, his ears are rested sideways and his piercing hazel eyes holding her own.
She speaks, and her voice warms the air with a feminine glaze. Women did nothing for Opacity, it could even be argued he despises them. They are elegant and fragile, with carefully wired brains and hand sculpted frames. They have a touch of godliness, an aura of attraction. His mother had this fierce sense of energy that attracted powerful minds. Perhaps Quark got engulfed by the feeling of strength, perhaps she got tangled in mother’s mess of ferocity. Certainly his father did. Women, they had this intriguing air about them, it just smelt too sweet.
This one smelt sweet, but it would be like reaching down into a rose bush after the seventh time of doing so, and still being stabbed by thorns.
His acknowledgement to her is a slight blink, before swinging his head from her and letting his gaze return onto the peaceful lake. His gesture left her to decide. Opacity was no speaker, he never had been. It is questionable whether his vocal chords could still muster up a word. He hadn’t had to practiced.
Opacity
sewn together with good intentions
