Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn
Pipsqueak joins the other companions in collecting fallen ducklings, her draconic need to hoard all things set ablaze by this bounty. When Koa gets back to his abandoned pack, he will find it spilling over with fowl, some of his own possessions displaced to make room for the lizard’s cache.
“Yeah, thanks, Ludo,” Koa mutters almost testily, picking up a yellow duck and chucking it vaguely toward the distant shrine. There is no true ire to his tone, of course, the still echoing laughter and enduring smile preventing ire from entering his heart. It is mirth emboldened by Melita’s gratitude, the boyish smile now truly threatening to stretch his face to the point of pain. “Good!” Koa cheers with great self-satisfaction, slapping a hand on the pool-float-sized mallardthat nearly claimed his life. “Though next time we spar I’m bringing an umbrella. This was definitely the weirdest rain I’ve ever been caught in. Cute, though.” Again he laughs, merry and warm.
He’s been collecting errant ducklings, stacking them absently in a pile atop his large green foe. The tower is five toys high then it inevitably crumbles, leading Koa and his ADHD to begin to stack again. To Melita he asks: ”So you wanna go back and see how they’re doing? Or should we clean this up first?” A sweeping gesture to the array of birds; while Koa itches to see the conclusion of the battles, he’ll defer to the Zombee and what she needs. It’s what friends do - and by Koa’s estimation, they certainly are friends.
If surviving a rain of ducks doesn’t bind you together, he doesn’t know what does.
“Yeah, thanks, Ludo,” Koa mutters almost testily, picking up a yellow duck and chucking it vaguely toward the distant shrine. There is no true ire to his tone, of course, the still echoing laughter and enduring smile preventing ire from entering his heart. It is mirth emboldened by Melita’s gratitude, the boyish smile now truly threatening to stretch his face to the point of pain. “Good!” Koa cheers with great self-satisfaction, slapping a hand on the pool-float-sized mallard
He’s been collecting errant ducklings, stacking them absently in a pile atop his large green foe. The tower is five toys high then it inevitably crumbles, leading Koa and his ADHD to begin to stack again. To Melita he asks: ”So you wanna go back and see how they’re doing? Or should we clean this up first?” A sweeping gesture to the array of birds; while Koa itches to see the conclusion of the battles, he’ll defer to the Zombee and what she needs. It’s what friends do - and by Koa’s estimation, they certainly are friends.
If surviving a rain of ducks doesn’t bind you together, he doesn’t know what does.
Koa Carpenter
Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams
