we don't have to live this way
02-13-2014, 01:42 AM
His queen had probably learned of his cravings for the hours of darkness; though it hid his proud appearance from examination, it provided his pale skin with the rest it needed to remain intact. Earlier that afternoon he had been hot on the tail of a wounded buck, the bridge of his nose now scorched by the reflection of rays on the snow, and the tops of his coral toes ached with the tenderness of sunburn. He seemed far more aware of his health as he aged, and perhaps that day the beaming rays of light had reminded him of his mortality; his inability to defend himself from nature even if it seemed at times he was untouchable. He craved for her reassurance, but not in the same way the related pair had when they were young; now, it was far stronger, and his chest felt a throbbing weakness to her presence it had never bore before. He would crawl to her, almost as if he was feeling particularly sorry for the sting of his scorched toes against the snow, and yet still he held his infamous air of power and pride. ?The greatest of men would yield to the power of her cry,? his ruby gaze had slowly become short sighted in the dark, but still he could make out her powerful silhouette against the navy skies. He would come to her, and he would seat himself before her, bowing his skull towards her, as if begging her to heal the ache of his blistered nose. |