edge of the world
11-14-2016, 09:25 PM
| The shadow seems to waif in and out of existence. He's too small, too slight, and his waist is nearly ghostly thin. If it hadn't been appropriate for his breeding, Poser would have registered somewhere in the emaciated scale. He's something else, something different. A hairy, mutant deer, a friend had called him at one point. That was the easiest way to explain it. Careful as ever, and sharp as a whip. There's something electric and fantastic and beautiful. The shadow is all of those things. The shadow is a king. He always has been. He always will be. It's deep in his soul and even deeper in his breeding. Printed on his very soul. There's a scent on the edge of his consciousness, and he can see the man. He's too billowy, too graceful, too charming to be a normal man. Of course. Beautiful as ever, Poser is. The man draws his focus, draws his gaze. Leaping over cracked ground and changing direction, the high headed creature sets his gaze on the stranger. Right. He'd just look for now, as he made his way across the ground. If Poser had any weight to him, there would have been a thundering to his paws. No weight. Just speed. Pure grace and powerful speed. The young god set eyes on the stranger, drawing near. "You don't have to stare, I'm not going anywhere." A gentle tossing of the head with a softness to his Russian accent. Stereotypical hot foreign boy, at your service. The blood of kings in his veins and the stories of gods would be on everyone's tongue's soon enough. A comfortable distance, a leap and a settle. How beautiful. poser breathy way of saying my name |
![[Image: VVdK7m3.png]](http://i.imgur.com/VVdK7m3.png)