[Alexander] Primitive, Isn't It?
12-15-2024, 05:21 AM
Even beneath the harvest’s sun, atlantis-green and pistachio miscellany bore no rimy armour, nor did it wane into frailty, atleast not yet. Soon, perhaps, it would be held captive under winter’s grasp, brazen in linen of chalky, diaphanous snowflakes —— mere presumptions, howbeit —— that’s all it ever was, and most of the time, she wasn’t far from wrong.
It’s served her well for many years, and having been reborn thrice, one learns a thing or two. Memories, however, did not; they were overcast, a daze, a chimera that breathed in the dark with no true path or premonition. You see, all that remained ardent was the vague reminiscence of her offspring -- where, pray tell, had they gone? A glister of dubiety, spritzed with corralled trauma and unpredictable tendencies, polluted Lebraid’s boreal, stony glare, therein falling upon that of a carob, charcoal and off-white dire, a boy. She did not care if their ages were similar or naught, mossbed jacket pulling tautly at the bitterness billowing from their own pale, limestone gaze. And whom might she owe this great displeasure? There was null emotion, distilled in the pits of hell as she bludgeoned them far below it, “What?” She’d bark, tones threaped in lees of glass and ghostly animus, inveilging them to speak, rather than stare like a dahm fool.
She’d sooner expunge it from their face, if that be the case.
|
[WARNING]
Exposed is highly unpredictable in all threads. There's no telling what may trigger it. You've been warned.  |