Iskra
Shot through the heart and the soul
Some feelings never will go
The fire, lightning, black and blue, but I'm fighting
Some feelings never will go
The fire, lightning, black and blue, but I'm fighting
It doesn't take much to encourage him into something ridiculous and wild, least of all if it's coming from her. He has ever delighted in performance for the sake of others, especially for an outcome of lightheartedness, knowing full well just how heavy this world can be if you let it (and even when you don't).
Oblivious to her affinity for the taste of pumpkins today, he smirks back in response and squares his shoulders back. One hand slips into his pocket, the other holding his game board at his side, limp as he drifts down internally to find the core of the wolf. His umbrella hat does not suit the intense aura he gathers, but it does assist with the humor of it all. Pulling in a deep breath, he suddenly tips his head back and lets it out in a loud, surprisingly well-practiced, howl. In his pocket, his one hand rubs at his static-inducing cloth, and he transfer the shock of it through the metal railing and down to anyone touching it. An addition of jolted surprise to really make people feel his howl, and the shadowfangs with them.
It's nowhere near as good as Goose's, or the wolves, or these mysterious creatures of dusklight. It's enough though, and the exhibit launches into it's own concert of eerie calls. Satisfied, Iskra ends his, grinning from ear to ear. It is enough of an excitement to trigger the beast to pounce towards the edge of it's habitat, where the child is still toddling, unsure of what's going on but loving it.
Oblivious to her affinity for the taste of pumpkins today, he smirks back in response and squares his shoulders back. One hand slips into his pocket, the other holding his game board at his side, limp as he drifts down internally to find the core of the wolf. His umbrella hat does not suit the intense aura he gathers, but it does assist with the humor of it all. Pulling in a deep breath, he suddenly tips his head back and lets it out in a loud, surprisingly well-practiced, howl. In his pocket, his one hand rubs at his static-inducing cloth, and he transfer the shock of it through the metal railing and down to anyone touching it. An addition of jolted surprise to really make people feel his howl, and the shadowfangs with them.
It's nowhere near as good as Goose's, or the wolves, or these mysterious creatures of dusklight. It's enough though, and the exhibit launches into it's own concert of eerie calls. Satisfied, Iskra ends his, grinning from ear to ear. It is enough of an excitement to trigger the beast to pounce towards the edge of it's habitat, where the child is still toddling, unsure of what's going on but loving it.
Some doors will always be closed
You got to kick 'em on through
Gotta get used to the splinter in your boot
You got to kick 'em on through
Gotta get used to the splinter in your boot
