stars won't ever wait for you to watch them fall.

Barrett · 10-09-2011, 05:49 AM

[html]

For such a straightforward question, it flew at him like a curve ball. The boy blinked stupidly; what else was he into? Although it was probably an innocuous inquiry for most, perhaps because he was high, exhausted, or distracted, he struggled to come up with a good answer. Thing was, he did take interest in some more impressive sounding pursuits—meteorology, horticulture, mechanics, and even Buddhist spirituality—but it didn't occur to him to talk about these things. The hybrid was always very careful not to come across as haughty or pretentious; he was wary of breaching such deep subjects with a new acquaintance. And so, after a moment's contemplation, he opted for a simple, suggestive response: Eh, y'know. Anythin' that's fun or groovy. A playful wink. (There were, after all, other ways to enjoy oneself that weren't reliant on intoxicating substances.)

Stars are cool, though. Weird to think about what else might be out there, he added, reclining and resting on his elbows so he could regard the heavens more easily. His muzzle pointed skywards in quiet contemplation until her voice roused him from his reverie. He peered back at the guitar and nodded. Go for it, he said, tail thumping twice. He smiled as she delicately lifted the instrument and began to pluck out dulcet notes. The man slipped back further and laid against the cool surface, legs dangling loosely over the edge, one foot swaying in time with the rhythm, and arms crossed behind his head. His lemon-yellow eyes fluttered shut as he listened—he wasn't asleep, but simply enjoying the faint, swirling, colourful patterns traced out behind his eyelids in response to the music. When it stopped, they opened again.

His joint had dwindled down to naught; nothing but a column of ash remained. He sat up, flicked it aside, and watched as she rummaged in her bag. Pssh, he breathed softly, if you're cold, you shoulda just said something. He scooted closer and reached out an arm, inviting her to snuggle up against him. The nights were getting chilly, he supposed, but somehow winter in Nova Scotia never got as nippy as those he experienced further inland growing up. When she directed his attention upward once again, he looked, but his mind was decidedly elsewhere. Polaris, eh? He understood the significance of this stellar navigational landmark, but it had been some time since he heard the exact term. Learned navigation once, but have to admit I forgot most'a the names, he explained, adding sure this didn't help with an impish grin, gesturing towards her lit cigarette. Mind if I try a taste? Of her, or the pot? I'll reciprocate, o'course, he said, holding up one of his own joints. Variety was the spice of life, was it not?

Login




Remember me Lost Password?