Iskra
Wonder why I tear myself down
just to get built back up again
just to get built back up again
Strapped into the skis before he knows it, he's grinning like a damn fool behind Mel as she gets seated onto the back of the beast. The rope in his hand is slack until they start, and he exhales in a bracing expectation of it suddenly snapping tight and wheeling him along beside the thunder of hooves and the roar of the crowd.
It all goes to hell rather fast though, Mel's balance swerving as she dives, and misses, for the rings. "MEL!" he shouts out, too worried to keep his eyes on the track, his first jump lost as she nearly tumbles off the animal, leaning far too heavily off the side of the saddle. "STEADY MEL!!!" he shouts up, but the pace slows and she clambers back into a better seat. Never straying from the prize at hand, she collects the rings this time, and with a sigh of relief Iskra orients himself back to the sport and glides up the next jump with a whoop, rings claimed in victory.
It all goes to hell rather fast though, Mel's balance swerving as she dives, and misses, for the rings. "MEL!" he shouts out, too worried to keep his eyes on the track, his first jump lost as she nearly tumbles off the animal, leaning far too heavily off the side of the saddle. "STEADY MEL!!!" he shouts up, but the pace slows and she clambers back into a better seat. Never straying from the prize at hand, she collects the rings this time, and with a sigh of relief Iskra orients himself back to the sport and glides up the next jump with a whoop, rings claimed in victory.
I fill the void up with polished doubt
fake sentiment
fake sentiment
