06-06-2019, 06:10 PM
my heart is violent because it learned how to bleed at a young age
when it is hungry I feed it with shaking hands.
when it is hungry I feed it with shaking hands.
His mother is resting after a particularly long game of tag with her darling boy but Malone is still brimming with energy. He waits until he’s certain that her breaths are slow and even from sleeping while her thoughts dwindle to senseless dreams. Finally, he eases himself from her side and tiptoes from the shade of the tree she likes to sleep under. Doesn’t she know that he’s too old for naps now? A triumphant grin spreads over his handsome little face, half gold and hold ink black with shimmering stars in the depthless dark.
Once he’s six or so feet away from the napping Starsin, his spindly legs carry him into a reckless trot toward the more open areas of Loess. He’s begun to fill out a bit and his ribs are no longer showing beneath his gorgeous coat. Likewise, the strands of his mane and tail are long enough that his locks hang downward rather than out in little tufts of baby fuzz. It was evident from the moment he drew his first breaths that he would be a gorgeous thing but he grows more impressive with each passing day. (He knows because his parents tell him so.)
His black eyes framed by black sclera turn when he spots the powder pink girl among the ferns, bleeding and grumbling to herself. Her thoughts are frustrated and messy but she doesn’t seem to be fuming over her injuries. Malone comes to a clumsy halt near her, tilting his head as he looks at the barbs still out of her reach.
“Do you want some help? I can pull them out if you want,” he calls softly, little wings slightly lifted from his sides as his ears turn forward to listen for her answer. The boy’s right foreleg remains poised for his next step but he fears intruding on her privacy. The summer sun manages to dim the shine of the stars across his body but in exchange it sets the gold splashes on fire as they glimmer in the heat. If he hadn’t bumped into her, he might’ve taken to sun bathing for a while.
Oh, but he should be polite and introduce himself, shouldn’t he?
“My name is Malone, by the way! What’s yours?”
Once he’s six or so feet away from the napping Starsin, his spindly legs carry him into a reckless trot toward the more open areas of Loess. He’s begun to fill out a bit and his ribs are no longer showing beneath his gorgeous coat. Likewise, the strands of his mane and tail are long enough that his locks hang downward rather than out in little tufts of baby fuzz. It was evident from the moment he drew his first breaths that he would be a gorgeous thing but he grows more impressive with each passing day. (He knows because his parents tell him so.)
His black eyes framed by black sclera turn when he spots the powder pink girl among the ferns, bleeding and grumbling to herself. Her thoughts are frustrated and messy but she doesn’t seem to be fuming over her injuries. Malone comes to a clumsy halt near her, tilting his head as he looks at the barbs still out of her reach.
“Do you want some help? I can pull them out if you want,” he calls softly, little wings slightly lifted from his sides as his ears turn forward to listen for her answer. The boy’s right foreleg remains poised for his next step but he fears intruding on her privacy. The summer sun manages to dim the shine of the stars across his body but in exchange it sets the gold splashes on fire as they glimmer in the heat. If he hadn’t bumped into her, he might’ve taken to sun bathing for a while.
Oh, but he should be polite and introduce himself, shouldn’t he?
“My name is Malone, by the way! What’s yours?”