![Flash[LIGHT] Avatar](http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a159/animerocks1234/m_6a3738ee02153d11cbd9d3db46053e37.gif)
Post by Flash[LIGHT] on Jul 20, 2009 20:11:13 GMT -5
&__;you’ve gotta have the STORM to get that RAINBOW!;__&
Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put 'em in quotations
Say what you need to say
Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead,
If you could only . . .
Say what you need to say
Thunder. It crackled on the horizon, practically swearing to a bout of rain, the drought of Summer’s heat tiring for most. The humid temperatures were, today, laced with hope for cooler winds and such, and just now the breeze was picking up and the air was cooling slightly. The weather, at least for now, was perfectly fitting for this day, the winds fierce and strong as the lad was. The clouds above head were cloaked in a washed and dulled gray, the clouds seeming to be filled with uncountable amounts of rain — or, so it seemed to the optimistic, youthful lad. It was still clear, however, and when exploring new headquarter’s it was dead important that he could see everything clearly. His salmon tongued swept across his lips, his bright and gorgeously hued optics frantically gazing over every inch of the territory as he slowly crossed it, his mind filled with the rustling of the leaves and branches that hung limply and dryly from the few trees that were scattered across the Museum’s property. The sun wasn’t visible behind the array of clouds, and his ears perked, though he could not hear hardly any human noises, except for the occasional chat of a woman and her husband, or perhaps a child babbling excitedly about the Museum to it’s sibling, or siblings, along with the guard’s shoes whisking across the outside ground along with the clicking nails of their dogs as they walked across pavement or concrete. The concretes and pavements had cooled, though they were still considerably warm, and he could hear his own nails clack against the hard ground, though the tweeting of birds could not be heard, for they were either quietly awaiting the rain or nestling in warm and comfortable ‘housings’ until it was time to cleanse and play in the hopefully rainy atmosphere. The short, stocky mix breed wandered around the territory, eyes alight with the satisfaction of feeling his paws against the ground — ground that solely belonged to Athiliot. He would swear to be a strong, supportive leader, never running away from battles or merely leaving his respected minions to do the work.
Thunder boomed once again, feeling the dog’s ears with shrill noises; he’d heard it many times before, and it did not affect him now, except for a small cringe of surprise when it first sounded. His ears first flicked forward, then back. Damnit. As the thunder had crackled and rumbled, the male had stumbled, scraping a single paw-pad across the ground — blood oozed from the wound, though obviously it was a mere scrape and would heal relatively quickly, and his jaws were grit together; idiotic thunder — of course, the cheerful male couldn’t help but laugh slightly at himself. He moved forward, a only slight limp waking in his gate. His gaze flickered back up to the sky; a flash of lightning lit the vast, gray-shrouded sky, it’s hue dark grays and blacks. He inhaled sharply, drawing scents in, the air colder now as it rippled in his throat and chest; his throat seemed to dry drastically as he took such a deep breath, which also lit fire in his chest; he could feel drips of rain splash down, closing his eyes, his frame frozen as he waited for a heavier shower to pound down –– the drops made hope for a thicker rain. Clouds glided slowly across the sky, his eyes opening to see the rain that was pouring down upon him; he’d soon be to the Museum. And his heart pounded faster as excitement sparked in his head at the prospect of seeing a magnificent which allowed dogs — it was amazing, something like that.
He soon stood in front of the breathtaking building, and he was soaked to the bone. His muzzle was parted, for a gasp had passed through his chest as he viewed how large and brilliant Srgt. Grey’s Museum of History; guards stood out in front, tightly holding extremely large dog’s by their leashes: the breeds and varieties seemed to range from German Shepherd’s, Doberman’s, Beacueron’s, to the plain ‘ol mutt. His wiry coat dripped with drops of crystal water, the rain beginning to be faster, heavier. He proudly watched as guards did their job, and as dogs either calmly watched people or tugged at their leashes with snapping jaws. His journey to this place had been wonderful — as had his journey from Ireland to here had been — but the territory, the building itself... overwhelmingly perfect. He swallowed, straightening himself out, before his paws pounded proudly on the ground. He sat down under a small tree, body leaned gracefully against the tree’s slender trunk, the leaves dripping swiftly onto his tan hued head, his warm gaze flickering from guard to guard, dog to dog, watching as people swiftly pulled their children to the car, attempting in a clumsy manner to reign in the child and keep them firmly under the umbrella; a small grin splashed on his fleshy lips as he watched such entertaining sights, recalling here in his new home old memories of the village’s children, though he didn’t feel mournful anymore, rather happy and pleased to be there with the Athiliot’s instead.
But, he did remember — yes, oh how he did. The abuse. The beatings. The good times. How you’d have to survive on leftovers and scraps, on minimal amounts of water. It was a horrible life that he had, one after the good and wonderful times; his expression was now a disgruntled facade of a grimace, face tightening with the old detail and horror of some of those memories. He swallowed, pushing his horrified and upset emotions back — his solemn gaze flicked back toward the Museum, the reminder of his new home, and again hope flourished in him strongly. No, he wouldn’t fearfully cave and run away due to his memories once more, he would turn back on such horrible things. A shudder rolled down his spine, chilling his being more than the cool rain had, and a soft sigh wisped through his deep chest, his eyes slowly turning back in the other direction, slightly away from the human-inhabited Museum. It was a peaceful sight, and the noise that filled his ears were that of naturalness, and a smile once more was scattered messily on his kissers.
How... how could Athiliot be such a perfect place for this once broken lad? Optimism flooded his expression, and his light eyes flickered up to the gray tinged sky. He was happy again, happy to be just there, pleased to just be surrounded with a long lost peacefulness.
The rain had fallen back to a drizzle, particularly seeming to rest on him, his sodden coat shivering on his shoulders.
“Athiliot, I’m here. I’m ready.”
Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Say what you need to say
—
[Word Count] 1149, without lyrics, coding, words at beginning of post, OOC, etc.
[Muse] Good, <3
[Puppet] Obviously, Sebastian xP
[For] Nah, closed, since this is a claim post – only admins/mods, whatever, welcome here I s’pose.
[Lyrics and by] Say - John Mayer.
[Comments] N/A, except for one explanation; when he said that the sound of thunder didn’t really frighten him, but he still stumbled and all, that’s simply because he was startled. Thank you! Oh, and, font might be changed to distinguish him later ;3
Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put 'em in quotations
Say what you need to say
Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead,
If you could only . . .
Say what you need to say
Thunder. It crackled on the horizon, practically swearing to a bout of rain, the drought of Summer’s heat tiring for most. The humid temperatures were, today, laced with hope for cooler winds and such, and just now the breeze was picking up and the air was cooling slightly. The weather, at least for now, was perfectly fitting for this day, the winds fierce and strong as the lad was. The clouds above head were cloaked in a washed and dulled gray, the clouds seeming to be filled with uncountable amounts of rain — or, so it seemed to the optimistic, youthful lad. It was still clear, however, and when exploring new headquarter’s it was dead important that he could see everything clearly. His salmon tongued swept across his lips, his bright and gorgeously hued optics frantically gazing over every inch of the territory as he slowly crossed it, his mind filled with the rustling of the leaves and branches that hung limply and dryly from the few trees that were scattered across the Museum’s property. The sun wasn’t visible behind the array of clouds, and his ears perked, though he could not hear hardly any human noises, except for the occasional chat of a woman and her husband, or perhaps a child babbling excitedly about the Museum to it’s sibling, or siblings, along with the guard’s shoes whisking across the outside ground along with the clicking nails of their dogs as they walked across pavement or concrete. The concretes and pavements had cooled, though they were still considerably warm, and he could hear his own nails clack against the hard ground, though the tweeting of birds could not be heard, for they were either quietly awaiting the rain or nestling in warm and comfortable ‘housings’ until it was time to cleanse and play in the hopefully rainy atmosphere. The short, stocky mix breed wandered around the territory, eyes alight with the satisfaction of feeling his paws against the ground — ground that solely belonged to Athiliot. He would swear to be a strong, supportive leader, never running away from battles or merely leaving his respected minions to do the work.
Thunder boomed once again, feeling the dog’s ears with shrill noises; he’d heard it many times before, and it did not affect him now, except for a small cringe of surprise when it first sounded. His ears first flicked forward, then back. Damnit. As the thunder had crackled and rumbled, the male had stumbled, scraping a single paw-pad across the ground — blood oozed from the wound, though obviously it was a mere scrape and would heal relatively quickly, and his jaws were grit together; idiotic thunder — of course, the cheerful male couldn’t help but laugh slightly at himself. He moved forward, a only slight limp waking in his gate. His gaze flickered back up to the sky; a flash of lightning lit the vast, gray-shrouded sky, it’s hue dark grays and blacks. He inhaled sharply, drawing scents in, the air colder now as it rippled in his throat and chest; his throat seemed to dry drastically as he took such a deep breath, which also lit fire in his chest; he could feel drips of rain splash down, closing his eyes, his frame frozen as he waited for a heavier shower to pound down –– the drops made hope for a thicker rain. Clouds glided slowly across the sky, his eyes opening to see the rain that was pouring down upon him; he’d soon be to the Museum. And his heart pounded faster as excitement sparked in his head at the prospect of seeing a magnificent which allowed dogs — it was amazing, something like that.
He soon stood in front of the breathtaking building, and he was soaked to the bone. His muzzle was parted, for a gasp had passed through his chest as he viewed how large and brilliant Srgt. Grey’s Museum of History; guards stood out in front, tightly holding extremely large dog’s by their leashes: the breeds and varieties seemed to range from German Shepherd’s, Doberman’s, Beacueron’s, to the plain ‘ol mutt. His wiry coat dripped with drops of crystal water, the rain beginning to be faster, heavier. He proudly watched as guards did their job, and as dogs either calmly watched people or tugged at their leashes with snapping jaws. His journey to this place had been wonderful — as had his journey from Ireland to here had been — but the territory, the building itself... overwhelmingly perfect. He swallowed, straightening himself out, before his paws pounded proudly on the ground. He sat down under a small tree, body leaned gracefully against the tree’s slender trunk, the leaves dripping swiftly onto his tan hued head, his warm gaze flickering from guard to guard, dog to dog, watching as people swiftly pulled their children to the car, attempting in a clumsy manner to reign in the child and keep them firmly under the umbrella; a small grin splashed on his fleshy lips as he watched such entertaining sights, recalling here in his new home old memories of the village’s children, though he didn’t feel mournful anymore, rather happy and pleased to be there with the Athiliot’s instead.
But, he did remember — yes, oh how he did. The abuse. The beatings. The good times. How you’d have to survive on leftovers and scraps, on minimal amounts of water. It was a horrible life that he had, one after the good and wonderful times; his expression was now a disgruntled facade of a grimace, face tightening with the old detail and horror of some of those memories. He swallowed, pushing his horrified and upset emotions back — his solemn gaze flicked back toward the Museum, the reminder of his new home, and again hope flourished in him strongly. No, he wouldn’t fearfully cave and run away due to his memories once more, he would turn back on such horrible things. A shudder rolled down his spine, chilling his being more than the cool rain had, and a soft sigh wisped through his deep chest, his eyes slowly turning back in the other direction, slightly away from the human-inhabited Museum. It was a peaceful sight, and the noise that filled his ears were that of naturalness, and a smile once more was scattered messily on his kissers.
How... how could Athiliot be such a perfect place for this once broken lad? Optimism flooded his expression, and his light eyes flickered up to the gray tinged sky. He was happy again, happy to be just there, pleased to just be surrounded with a long lost peacefulness.
The rain had fallen back to a drizzle, particularly seeming to rest on him, his sodden coat shivering on his shoulders.
“Athiliot, I’m here. I’m ready.”
Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open
Say what you need to say
—
[Word Count] 1149, without lyrics, coding, words at beginning of post, OOC, etc.
[Muse] Good, <3
[Puppet] Obviously, Sebastian xP
[For] Nah, closed, since this is a claim post – only admins/mods, whatever, welcome here I s’pose.
[Lyrics and by] Say - John Mayer.
[Comments] N/A, except for one explanation; when he said that the sound of thunder didn’t really frighten him, but he still stumbled and all, that’s simply because he was startled. Thank you! Oh, and, font might be changed to distinguish him later ;3