Post by ella on Aug 7, 2011 11:48:37 GMT -4
Xenrir could not help but let tears drip from his soft pudding-hued eyes when he saw his home, so ragged, so frayed. The countryside, once an explosion of bright green, with splashes of color strewn about, was now a dismal gray, with brown splotches making the landscape seem even more hopeless. Granted, it was winter, but winter could never account for such a devastating brokenness of this place, the place he called home. Perhaps it was the lack of faith, the lack of hope, that he held for ever getting out of the clutches of evil, or perhaps it was simply the despair that seemed to ooze from every pore of every body in Murate.
The male sat down on a rock, his shoulders slumping over, the warm tears coming faster, thawing his frozen face as they landed in the frost ridden ground, also melting a drip of frost off before freezing itself. Eventually, the quiet crying turned into body racking sobs, sobs that could not be stopped. Xenrir could not stop crying, and he didn’t wish to. He just wanted his home to be back to its beautiful, perfect state. Somewhere deep inside him, though, Xenrir knew that normal was no longer a standard. He’d be lucky to have livable, with the takeover, and everything else that had tolled Ellsinora for years, the constant demand of supplies, a demand that was growing every year. It was all Xenrir could do to keep breathing; breathing to the beat of his heart, his heartbeat to the flow of his tears.
The male sat down on a rock, his shoulders slumping over, the warm tears coming faster, thawing his frozen face as they landed in the frost ridden ground, also melting a drip of frost off before freezing itself. Eventually, the quiet crying turned into body racking sobs, sobs that could not be stopped. Xenrir could not stop crying, and he didn’t wish to. He just wanted his home to be back to its beautiful, perfect state. Somewhere deep inside him, though, Xenrir knew that normal was no longer a standard. He’d be lucky to have livable, with the takeover, and everything else that had tolled Ellsinora for years, the constant demand of supplies, a demand that was growing every year. It was all Xenrir could do to keep breathing; breathing to the beat of his heart, his heartbeat to the flow of his tears.