05-22-2011, 05:49 PM
Lol do not say these lies <3
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He would have sworn with vehemence that her approach had been a trick of his mind; the dark form merely a shadow cast by the gaps where memories should have been, and the scent so easily swept away by the saltiness of the ocean breeze. He ignored her. Partially, he loathed her if not simply for her existence. It was all black and red with confusion and the pain in his head. What else was there? And yet she approached, wavering on the fringes of his downturned gaze until the apparition came so bold as to make itself physical. Reaching out with some type of rod, she prodded him without an offered word. He was not offended, though excessively displeased that she were not merely a shadow cast by a feverish mind. He did not feel he had the energy or the cohesiveness of mind to deal with her.
Quintus' hands dropped to his lap, his pale eyes cast up to the dark figure. She was hazy, indistinct. It seemed hard to focus on anything. He blinked, attempting further, but it was still as difficult as grasping at smoke. He grew slightly exasperated, though it could only be visible beneath the stony expression on his face. "What?" he asked after a long moment, after his vision had sharpened enough to distill an expression of rancor upon her face. His deep voice was not so cross as it was worried; the confusion in the pain made him self-conscious, made him fearful of anything he might not know. "Quid est?" In Quintus' mind, the two questions were merely repetition in different terms; the same way that someone could refer to a rock as 'rock' or 'stone.' He had little concept of language, or the fact that there was anything to differentiate one from another.
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He would have sworn with vehemence that her approach had been a trick of his mind; the dark form merely a shadow cast by the gaps where memories should have been, and the scent so easily swept away by the saltiness of the ocean breeze. He ignored her. Partially, he loathed her if not simply for her existence. It was all black and red with confusion and the pain in his head. What else was there? And yet she approached, wavering on the fringes of his downturned gaze until the apparition came so bold as to make itself physical. Reaching out with some type of rod, she prodded him without an offered word. He was not offended, though excessively displeased that she were not merely a shadow cast by a feverish mind. He did not feel he had the energy or the cohesiveness of mind to deal with her.
Quintus' hands dropped to his lap, his pale eyes cast up to the dark figure. She was hazy, indistinct. It seemed hard to focus on anything. He blinked, attempting further, but it was still as difficult as grasping at smoke. He grew slightly exasperated, though it could only be visible beneath the stony expression on his face. "What?" he asked after a long moment, after his vision had sharpened enough to distill an expression of rancor upon her face. His deep voice was not so cross as it was worried; the confusion in the pain made him self-conscious, made him fearful of anything he might not know. "Quid est?" In Quintus' mind, the two questions were merely repetition in different terms; the same way that someone could refer to a rock as 'rock' or 'stone.' He had little concept of language, or the fact that there was anything to differentiate one from another.