04-28-2019, 03:55 PM
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[align=center]tags and biography
this is a fancy by aj inspired by thes
sheogorath
He had just finished spending time with his son, Joshua. Sheogorath had read to him, one of his many dinosaur books, before Mary had turned up to take the child to the local park, where there was a swing-set that Joshua enjoyed playing on. That afternoon, the skies were bright and sunny, not a tattered white cloud in sight, the warmth of the atmosphere a pleasant mixture of hot and cool.
As Sheogorath ate alone in the library, he let his hand fall to his lap, and felt a lump within his pocket. Curiously, Sheogorath reached into the fabric of his pants and felt the rough stone hidden within. He drew the rock, dubbed Rocky, from the pocket and set it upon the table, watching the object for a long moment. He used to consider the object his friend, he had talked to it all the time, but now he realized that talking to a stone wasn't exactly a healthy coping mechanism. Uttering a sigh, Sheogorath finished his meal before plucking the rock from the table and limping out into the streets.
He headed straight for the beach, though his mind wandered on occasion, making the path there all the more difficult to navigate. Finally, Sheogorath reached the shoreline, and he stepped into the dry granules of sand, staggering a bit before catching his balance. It was then that the red head strode toward the water, until he stood at the edge of the wave lapped, damp grit, where frothing water licked at the earth.
Sheogorath lifted his hand, Rocky in his grasp, to his eyes, and stared at the stone for some time, analyzing it's features, as if trying to memorize them. Then, suddenly, the man pulled back his arm, and sent the stone flying into the white capped ocean waves. He stood there, silently, for a long time after that, solemn, and quietly wondering if he had made the right decision in discarding one of his only friends, even if it was just a stone.
As Sheogorath ate alone in the library, he let his hand fall to his lap, and felt a lump within his pocket. Curiously, Sheogorath reached into the fabric of his pants and felt the rough stone hidden within. He drew the rock, dubbed Rocky, from the pocket and set it upon the table, watching the object for a long moment. He used to consider the object his friend, he had talked to it all the time, but now he realized that talking to a stone wasn't exactly a healthy coping mechanism. Uttering a sigh, Sheogorath finished his meal before plucking the rock from the table and limping out into the streets.
He headed straight for the beach, though his mind wandered on occasion, making the path there all the more difficult to navigate. Finally, Sheogorath reached the shoreline, and he stepped into the dry granules of sand, staggering a bit before catching his balance. It was then that the red head strode toward the water, until he stood at the edge of the wave lapped, damp grit, where frothing water licked at the earth.
Sheogorath lifted his hand, Rocky in his grasp, to his eyes, and stared at the stone for some time, analyzing it's features, as if trying to memorize them. Then, suddenly, the man pulled back his arm, and sent the stone flying into the white capped ocean waves. He stood there, silently, for a long time after that, solemn, and quietly wondering if he had made the right decision in discarding one of his only friends, even if it was just a stone.
[align=center]tags and biography
and i see fire, blood in the breeze
[sup]AND I HOPE THAT YOU'LL REMEMBER ME