the core of night

*Poser* · 09-22-2016, 11:46 AM

Poser is drawn to tall buildings like a moth to flame. He was born for something bigger, he was born to be a king. There's something about him, cutting his way through the night. At the core of night, he couldn't imagine anything less than he'd like than to be the light. Literal darkness. Literal light. Literal night. Pushing himself across the ground with a high head, the borzoi can't help but... but course. But chase. All he wants is the home feeling, all he wants is the satisfaction of having it back. It's what he needs. It's what he craves. That and a beautiful boy with a heart worth stealing, but that will come in time. That always comes in time.

This time he'd do that his own way. There was an ache in his throat, part physical, part emotional. Long since healed, but Poser still hurts over it. He still aches. Hell, he may ache for pretty much everything. The young man finds his way into the house with thoughts of his former family in his head. 10/6... jeeze. How long had it been? It was winter when he'd been banished, early winter, when it was starting to get cold and slushy. Poser had hurt for the duration of that winter alone, and on into the spring. Summer was kinder. Summer was always kinder.

It's well past midnight when he makes his way into the house, nosing his way through a broken window with his rail thin frame. Claws clicking on a marble floor as he looks up at the moonlit entryway, Poser sits on his haunches. He can't help it. He's in awe.

your charged touch
poser
breathy way of saying my name

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