quiet things
02-19-2017, 06:09 PM
He's tired. He's always tired, lately. It's hard to tell what's going through Arsenal's head, and if anyone was to figure that out... the should let him know. He'd love to be privy to that information as well. The spring melt had come along and made everything squishy, mud clinging to his coat this way and that. Dirty. But that doesn't matter so much when no one is actually looking at you. He's thankful for that much, at least. The apathetic creature finds himself surrounded by rocks, stacks and stacks, created by creatures with far bigger hands than you could imagine. Aliens, probably. Ancient gods. Whatever, same difference. He saunters, placing a paw on one of the lower slabs. At least it was stable. One paw and then two, and then four, climbing his way up. Arsenal is strong, and he moves in such a way-- large, but not without grace. All he had to do was put one foot in front of another. When he reaches a comfortable, sunny spot, Arsenal settles. Head on his paws, a sigh in his lungs. Comfortable. A comfortable space to be tired. Eyes drifting shut, but not without being alert, enjoying the sun. fall in love or in lust, either one |
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