06-20-2019, 11:32 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-16-2019, 12:43 PM by Wysteria Fairy.)
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He doesn’t understand. Above his youthful capacity lies a cabinet brimming with threaded intricacies as to why mother doesn’t dote on him. There is no love in her eyes. When she touches him – no matter how much he adores the contact – it is cold, distant. Little does he know how Valdis wars with herself in deciding what to do with the runt of her children. I can prove myself, he wants to say, but he cannot fathom a way to execute that. Her heart is encased in a cage, barred tightly and locked to no one but him. Certainly, he tries.
In the night, with his body more comfortably shifted into a hound, he nestles against her as the wind blows at their backs. Pangea is open like that; it’s constantly unraveled so that he may see the landscape no matter where he is perched on the cliff. Mother once mentioned father enjoys the darkness and hooded world of the forest, but Erio finds himself amiable toward openness.
But for the first time in his short life, Erio strays from mother’s side and treks toward a mountain that he has only heard of in distant whispers. It could have answers, he muses. It could help him.
There are multiple pauses in his travels to catch a breath into his small, immature lungs. His muscles ache early on, but he resumes after his periodic rests. Determination fuels him and guides him along the treacherous path until he reaches the top where the air is thin and cold. Admittedly, he knows not what to do. He is here but little does he know that it is only the beginning.
For a long while, his dark eyes sweep across the snow-crested peak in anticipation of someone – or something – arriving at the fall of his footsteps. Unfortunately, only silence greets him. A frigid wind kisses his skin and he shudders despite the long, hellhound coat adorning him. Reluctantly, his body shifts back into a foal. Small, insignificant, weak. Another tremble quakes his body as he sheds the skin he’s most comfortable in. <i>”Uh, hello. Ummm… I’m Erio.”</i> He peeks around the nearby corners and ledges, reeling back to his original place only after seeing how high he is. <i>”I, um, want to be useful. I want to be loved. I feel like I’m an embarrassment but I’m not sure why.”</i> There is a brief pause as he considers his predicament with a more meticulous hand that thumbs through his memories and observations. Alas, nothing of use really comes to mind. <i>”I don’t know what would be most beneficial. I’m not a fighter, so I can’t impress anyone that way… Please help me…”</i> Hanging his head, Erio falls quiet in his despair.
<div class="template1_name">erio</div></div></center>
Faerie's choice! I have nothing in mind for him to quest for so feel free to be creative and fun
He doesn’t understand. Above his youthful capacity lies a cabinet brimming with threaded intricacies as to why mother doesn’t dote on him. There is no love in her eyes. When she touches him – no matter how much he adores the contact – it is cold, distant. Little does he know how Valdis wars with herself in deciding what to do with the runt of her children. I can prove myself, he wants to say, but he cannot fathom a way to execute that. Her heart is encased in a cage, barred tightly and locked to no one but him. Certainly, he tries.
In the night, with his body more comfortably shifted into a hound, he nestles against her as the wind blows at their backs. Pangea is open like that; it’s constantly unraveled so that he may see the landscape no matter where he is perched on the cliff. Mother once mentioned father enjoys the darkness and hooded world of the forest, but Erio finds himself amiable toward openness.
But for the first time in his short life, Erio strays from mother’s side and treks toward a mountain that he has only heard of in distant whispers. It could have answers, he muses. It could help him.
There are multiple pauses in his travels to catch a breath into his small, immature lungs. His muscles ache early on, but he resumes after his periodic rests. Determination fuels him and guides him along the treacherous path until he reaches the top where the air is thin and cold. Admittedly, he knows not what to do. He is here but little does he know that it is only the beginning.
For a long while, his dark eyes sweep across the snow-crested peak in anticipation of someone – or something – arriving at the fall of his footsteps. Unfortunately, only silence greets him. A frigid wind kisses his skin and he shudders despite the long, hellhound coat adorning him. Reluctantly, his body shifts back into a foal. Small, insignificant, weak. Another tremble quakes his body as he sheds the skin he’s most comfortable in. <i>”Uh, hello. Ummm… I’m Erio.”</i> He peeks around the nearby corners and ledges, reeling back to his original place only after seeing how high he is. <i>”I, um, want to be useful. I want to be loved. I feel like I’m an embarrassment but I’m not sure why.”</i> There is a brief pause as he considers his predicament with a more meticulous hand that thumbs through his memories and observations. Alas, nothing of use really comes to mind. <i>”I don’t know what would be most beneficial. I’m not a fighter, so I can’t impress anyone that way… Please help me…”</i> Hanging his head, Erio falls quiet in his despair.
<div class="template1_name">erio</div></div></center>
Faerie's choice! I have nothing in mind for him to quest for so feel free to be creative and fun