I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife (Goliath)
12-11-2014, 04:45 PM
Droplets of salt stained water sunk down each patch of stuck obsidian hair as they clung to each other desperately trying to hold the liquid to his body. Hugging close to his figure, though hardly causing the thick hair to slenderize him in the least. The silver sands below him had yet to fall into their eerie night-time glow, though they were still obscenely pale regardless of their origins, perhaps stained by the sun early on in life above the waters edge. With a heavy sigh the brute pushed forward, droplets staining the sands and large grassy stalks turned slowly into tropical ferns and beautifully drooping vines falling from bent over palm trees as though they had been trying so hard to kiss the sands that they ended up growing into such an angle. Taking a moment to gaze at the strange foliage, the brute allowed his golden optics to finally land on the collapsed fae before him, his mind had been captured long enough by his surroundings, and with that, he had nearly stepped upon the dame's toes sprawled to unplanned into the semi-shadowed sands. A growl began to creep up from the behemoth's throat, though not in a threatening manner by any means, he harshly blew out the remainder of arm from his lungs as his flaring nostrils caused the bull ring in his nose to flex and shine in the sunlight, snot and liquidized breath dripped from the ring as the boarish brute starred softly at the fae, attempting to smell wether or not her life had been taken, or let alone no longer present. Upon realizing she was in fact quite alive, the heavy male took a few more steps past her and searched rather quickly for a specific herb, nostrils flaring to capture it's scent he quickly found the common root and pulled it into his jaws, unbothered by it's bitter taste and sour aftertaste, he chewed endlessly until the greenish liquid seeped from his jaws. In silence he walked back towards the fae, only to place the matted warm ball of saliva and nauseating smelling root onto her nose. Casually he waited over her for a few silent moments, salt water continuing to drip upon the dame's face as he did so. Saying and doing nothing more, he waited with a stoic and rather un-impressed look upon his face. Both unable to walk past this burden, as well as unable to leave her. |
Current time: 11-22-2024, 11:46 PM
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