bite the hand that beat you
His pace is consistent, never-changing -- a plodding walk through the mixture of snow and sand at his hooves, ears permanently pinned back against his neck as though to protect them from the howling cold. He had been shaken from his cactus-staring stupor by the touch of another, one that had sent his skin crawling and his body fleeing into the desert proper, away from someone so bold.
Away from contact, from the reminder that nothing was the same, nor would it ever be the same.
Except some things apparently never changed, like his ability to run into complete assholes in the middle of nowhere, screaming their goddamned fool heads off. His shoulder twitched, the starkly-white scars there a reminder of the last time he had faced down Leviathan, and his pale gaze was just as unamused this time.
“Goddamn, do you always yell like a yearling throwing a temper tantrum?” He sneers out at the familiar face, his ears still not moving from their firmly anchored position.
Away from contact, from the reminder that nothing was the same, nor would it ever be the same.
Except some things apparently never changed, like his ability to run into complete assholes in the middle of nowhere, screaming their goddamned fool heads off. His shoulder twitched, the starkly-white scars there a reminder of the last time he had faced down Leviathan, and his pale gaze was just as unamused this time.
“Goddamn, do you always yell like a yearling throwing a temper tantrum?” He sneers out at the familiar face, his ears still not moving from their firmly anchored position.
@Leviathan
