[PRP] Death in the air [Death Take Me/Born of Death]
Posted: Wed Apr 05, 2023 1:16 pm
Death made a mental note to look for said mossy caves; he enjoyed exploring, enjoyed new discoveries and had yet to find a cave matching that description. It sounded like something that he could study more in depth, perhaps bring his father along so that both of them could see what sort of things grew in such a place. "I don't mind decay," he said, after a moment of realization that he had been silent too long and it was likely awkward. "I mean, it's a part of the cycle of all living things, is it not?"
Born was such a delicate little thing. Death found his eyes moving back to trace the brightly colored hair, the sleek outlines of the slender body with a sort of detached interest that bordered on factual, but there was something else there too, something that he couldn't quite put a name to. He liked the different colors, how stark they stood out against his more muted ones.
"Do you eat plants?" Death asked, then wondered if the question was stupid. "Or meat? And mountains are...well..."
He tried to come up with a description that wouldn't be completely out of the depth of a blind kin. "Imagine yourself rising higher and higher so that the grass at your feet feels like nothing more than just tiny pricks against your hooves. Barely there. Tall enough to feel the clouds around your head, like a fine, wet mist that you can taste."
Born was such a delicate little thing. Death found his eyes moving back to trace the brightly colored hair, the sleek outlines of the slender body with a sort of detached interest that bordered on factual, but there was something else there too, something that he couldn't quite put a name to. He liked the different colors, how stark they stood out against his more muted ones.
"Do you eat plants?" Death asked, then wondered if the question was stupid. "Or meat? And mountains are...well..."
He tried to come up with a description that wouldn't be completely out of the depth of a blind kin. "Imagine yourself rising higher and higher so that the grass at your feet feels like nothing more than just tiny pricks against your hooves. Barely there. Tall enough to feel the clouds around your head, like a fine, wet mist that you can taste."
Beejoux wrote: