It's taken a lifetime to lose my way
All the wasted time on my hands turns to sand
They pressed on, leaving the sea behind, and with it he took one last look over his shoulder, at the press of ice that seemed like glass, at the veneer, at the surface that reminded him eerily of so many damned things. Then he swung his head forward, dragging, hauling, forging onward, feeling the walls drawing themselves back up; inexplicably, trying to move ahead when there were so many other murky onslaughts, so many other factors and factions lining his edges.
As always though, Aisha had an ability to keep him out of the heaviest and headiest of doldrums, arching a brow, permitting another snort to follow through on puffs of air, on streamlined curls and contortions. Zuriel roamed alongside, clearly waiting for something, but he ignored her for the time being, angling his features in her direction. A smirk, a snicker, dared to rest in the corner of his mouth. “Do we? What do you stand for?” And he meant it to be humorous, light, airy, mercurial, naught entangling but the wide open range as they manifested their way home, pressing over the snow.
As always though, Aisha had an ability to keep him out of the heaviest and headiest of doldrums, arching a brow, permitting another snort to follow through on puffs of air, on streamlined curls and contortions. Zuriel roamed alongside, clearly waiting for something, but he ignored her for the time being, angling his features in her direction. A smirk, a snicker, dared to rest in the corner of his mouth. “Do we? What do you stand for?” And he meant it to be humorous, light, airy, mercurial, naught entangling but the wide open range as they manifested their way home, pressing over the snow.
I'm fine in the fire
I feed on the friction
