07-21-2009, 08:41 PM
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ooc: Attila don't know what is love DX no need to match size
W.C.: +700
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ooc: Attila don't know what is love DX no need to match size
W.C.: +700
It was the most beautiful scene. A wide clearing, the forest scarcely crawling inside it when it was seeable. But the beauty wasn't in the maple and pine trees. It was in how the grass and the rare wild flowers were almost impossible to see, as they were drowned into the white fluffy sea of blow balls, filling completely the extension of the meadow. So pretty...
Sitting there, his back lying over the massive shoulder blades of Markku, hugging lightly his knees, their path marked by the blow balls were blown away by their walking, the ful moon up high in the clear, cloudless pitch black sky, jeweled with duzens of stars.
The bully juvenile had found this meadow out of nothing, as he had been just wandering around the territory. It was extremly stupid the silent he had kept, from the very beginning of that morning to this very moment, the night cloak sheltering him. Keen, the baby barn owl, was sleeping peacefully in the top of his head, it's slow breathing impossible to hear, even for his sharp ears.
He sighed, looking up at the bright stars, the Milky Way galaxy swirling shapes and shapes into the black background of the Universe... It was exquisitively beautiful. Or it would, if he'd actually able to see it. As he gazed upon that amazing scenery, it was like there was an obstruction between his grayish blue eyes and that beauty. And the obstruction was a face. A face he knew well - maybe too well. A face with each he had lived since ever, a face that was as trickster as he was. As smart as he was. Her water green eyes glared inside his, her brown and tanned fur shone with a silver tint with the moonlight. Ocèane.
He sighed, curling completely over his legs, his arms wrapping tigher around his knees. As usual, Markku's crimson eyes looked at him, full of worry.
The pale boy knew he would soon to enter the teenagehood, and that it meant his hormones would start to run wild, and that would bring a new way to see the world, and new ways to feel things. But he just can't seem to know what was that. He wasn't sure how he felt about his sister. That incondicional love for his siblings - at least his sisters - and for his mother seemed to be fading into just a normal love for them. Before, he felt the need to be around them. Now, he felt just like they were his family, and that was all.
But Oce... It felt different about her. It looked... stronger. It wasn't the survival need to be around her. It was just... a need to be around her. It felt just too weird. He couldn't understand that.
A heavy sigh behind him sent some blow ball's seeds around him, and he had to look at the Spirit Guide. His blood red eyes were impenetrable, but full of worry and caring. "Wha's up with ya, whelp? Ya look... sick." He said, his husky, deep voice echoing in the silent of the night. What could he say? The boy actually felt rather sick, but he wasn't willing to make the bear even more worried. He just shook his head, sighing again.
He grabbed one of the billions of blow balls, looking at it. So simple, and yet so simple. Beautiful. Or it would, if he could see it right. A deep breath and he blew it, the cloud of seeds spreading away, bouncing in the air. Pretty.
The boy almost growled, enraged with not being able to make out what was that feeling. It made him more than angry, and the back of his hands itched, a normal reaction to when he wanted to hit something. His white brows furrowed, and he grabbed rather gently the bird from the top his head. He looked, angry, into the startled, wide pitch balck eyes of the nestling. "You softened me!" He acused, his voice rough. The bird simply tilted his head, a low cry scaping out of his minimun beak. Another sigh.
Keeping the bird in his hands, he stared again into the skies, trying to break through that face, not succeeding.
Sitting there, his back lying over the massive shoulder blades of Markku, hugging lightly his knees, their path marked by the blow balls were blown away by their walking, the ful moon up high in the clear, cloudless pitch black sky, jeweled with duzens of stars.
The bully juvenile had found this meadow out of nothing, as he had been just wandering around the territory. It was extremly stupid the silent he had kept, from the very beginning of that morning to this very moment, the night cloak sheltering him. Keen, the baby barn owl, was sleeping peacefully in the top of his head, it's slow breathing impossible to hear, even for his sharp ears.
He sighed, looking up at the bright stars, the Milky Way galaxy swirling shapes and shapes into the black background of the Universe... It was exquisitively beautiful. Or it would, if he'd actually able to see it. As he gazed upon that amazing scenery, it was like there was an obstruction between his grayish blue eyes and that beauty. And the obstruction was a face. A face he knew well - maybe too well. A face with each he had lived since ever, a face that was as trickster as he was. As smart as he was. Her water green eyes glared inside his, her brown and tanned fur shone with a silver tint with the moonlight. Ocèane.
He sighed, curling completely over his legs, his arms wrapping tigher around his knees. As usual, Markku's crimson eyes looked at him, full of worry.
The pale boy knew he would soon to enter the teenagehood, and that it meant his hormones would start to run wild, and that would bring a new way to see the world, and new ways to feel things. But he just can't seem to know what was that. He wasn't sure how he felt about his sister. That incondicional love for his siblings - at least his sisters - and for his mother seemed to be fading into just a normal love for them. Before, he felt the need to be around them. Now, he felt just like they were his family, and that was all.
But Oce... It felt different about her. It looked... stronger. It wasn't the survival need to be around her. It was just... a need to be around her. It felt just too weird. He couldn't understand that.
A heavy sigh behind him sent some blow ball's seeds around him, and he had to look at the Spirit Guide. His blood red eyes were impenetrable, but full of worry and caring. "Wha's up with ya, whelp? Ya look... sick." He said, his husky, deep voice echoing in the silent of the night. What could he say? The boy actually felt rather sick, but he wasn't willing to make the bear even more worried. He just shook his head, sighing again.
He grabbed one of the billions of blow balls, looking at it. So simple, and yet so simple. Beautiful. Or it would, if he could see it right. A deep breath and he blew it, the cloud of seeds spreading away, bouncing in the air. Pretty.
The boy almost growled, enraged with not being able to make out what was that feeling. It made him more than angry, and the back of his hands itched, a normal reaction to when he wanted to hit something. His white brows furrowed, and he grabbed rather gently the bird from the top his head. He looked, angry, into the startled, wide pitch balck eyes of the nestling. "You softened me!" He acused, his voice rough. The bird simply tilted his head, a low cry scaping out of his minimun beak. Another sigh.
Keeping the bird in his hands, he stared again into the skies, trying to break through that face, not succeeding.