this is my kingdom come [vittoria/open]
Nov 7, 2014 15:48:20 GMT -6
Post by KUNA ✌ on Nov 7, 2014 15:48:20 GMT -6
LOKII
The first thing he did was try his tricks. In each place he came to (some with a hundred suns, some with no suns at all, some with eternal days, some with eternal nights, some with no water, some with too much water, some with equines with all wings, some with equines with all horns) he has tried his tricks and then his sands. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. In this new land, it doesn’t work. His teeth grit together in lack of amusement, frustrated that he cannot torture the minds of the dwellers here. He doesn’t fret, however, because he can still torture the minds of the dwellers regardless of whether he has his tricks or not. He doesn’t need tricks to be a trickster, just like a clown doesn’t need his tricycle to be a clown.
The first place he arrives at is cheery and plentiful and it reminds him much of the meadow in his birth-land (the meadow where he was born, the meadow where he left his mother, the meadow where he met the female trickster, the meadow where he tormented rabbits and raccoons and robins). There are many things he remembers about that meadow, but he can hardly say if any of them were good.
The trickster first stops at the pool of clear water, dropping his head down to slurp up the liquids. It had taken him a bit of difficulty to master the art of drinking and eating without the water and food dripping out of his unskinned jaws. It still continues to do so and a few thick droplets trickle down his bony chin. When he raises his head, those bruised eyes (black and blue, white and blue) gaze around the landscape with a calculating calamity.
He’s just waiting for someone to approach him, as he knows they will.
So he settles for standing under the shade of a slender tree with elegant branches, out of the heat of the summer sun, and waits patiently.
The first place he arrives at is cheery and plentiful and it reminds him much of the meadow in his birth-land (the meadow where he was born, the meadow where he left his mother, the meadow where he met the female trickster, the meadow where he tormented rabbits and raccoons and robins). There are many things he remembers about that meadow, but he can hardly say if any of them were good.
The trickster first stops at the pool of clear water, dropping his head down to slurp up the liquids. It had taken him a bit of difficulty to master the art of drinking and eating without the water and food dripping out of his unskinned jaws. It still continues to do so and a few thick droplets trickle down his bony chin. When he raises his head, those bruised eyes (black and blue, white and blue) gaze around the landscape with a calculating calamity.
He’s just waiting for someone to approach him, as he knows they will.
So he settles for standing under the shade of a slender tree with elegant branches, out of the heat of the summer sun, and waits patiently.
word count: 335 | tags: General SigmaButt σ / any
surpriiiiiise! <3
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