Losing Grip

Quote:"Speech"

Thoughts

The sky had begun it's day with a gentle fall breeze, and a soft azul cascade above the earth, reflecting an air of comfort and softness across the valley's. Something the brute had only noticed for a brief moment in time upon telling himself silently that stopping at smelling the roses was quickly growing into more and more of a chore. With a heavy sigh, the crisp air exhaled from his great lungs with ease, no longer was the sky colored a crisp blue, but instead a blustering gray and silver. Dark charcoal circling into the cream textured cloud cover above, slowly moving across the valley's, leaving it's shadow over everything, without the slightest inkling of light remaining anywhere.

A brief shake of his obsidian pelt sent spare black hairs to flutter to the earth below him, followed by a thin, minuscule cloud of dusting across his rigid, lean top line. Dial was pulled upwards upon his crest, a few heavy breaths were taken in to asses the scent that had captured his attention. Unsure of the current air about him, his attention was cut short with a sudden blast of thunder from above, he snapped his dial in the direction of the roar of the god's. With a patter of rain beginning to fall, the scent was slowly fading into nothing, and so did his interest. Instead he pushed forward, one slow step after another as the brute began to take on the rain, obsidian pelt beginning to droop and sag, heavy with rainwater. Lying auds were suddenly awoken to the sound of a splash cutting the pitter-patter of droplets against the earth. With a gentle squint of his silver gaze, the brute shook his pelt yet again to rid himself of the tickle of water rolling down his ribcage and chest.

The sound of another caused him to slow himself to nearly a crawl. A fae the color of cream suddenly caught his attention from around a corner, closer than he had first thought, though not concerning nonetheless. Dial lowered and his bodice lifted. Long, lean legs grew upward without ever seeming to end, black stalks held apart as he took a moment before quietly speaking out, a small smirk across his narrow visage, both puzzled and amused. "Not sure they can hear you right now." His vocals seemed to match the roaring thunder in the distance, deep and smooth in sound.

Word Count - 407

Tags - Evelyn!

Mood - Amused, Curious, ...Wet