04-08-2021, 05:44 AM
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ultimum eques
the golden eyes
stoneguard
albino oriental
tags
the golden eyes
stoneguard
albino oriental
tags
[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: georgia; color: #664b4a; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px; letter-spacing: 1px; font-size: 12px;"]NEVER GETS ANY BETTER, ONLY GETS WORSE
With age comes wisdom, ease allowed such to be thrown about as though imparted truth among the simple assembly of words, often found brittle beneath scrutiny. Time allowed experience, tempered skills honed, but so too it a cruel blade that may carve away that untouched, forgotten beneath the new. Eager once had he been to gather knowledge, harsh the lesson learnt of taking upon himself such trivial tidbits. Instead given his attention to a select few, trained those deemed necessary.
Fishing was not within his repertoire, something he had not thought to remedy.
Always was there a time to acquire new talents, even for an old dog such as he though adamant those who spoke of such being incapable. His progress slowed, a walk that bore the secondary purpose of noting growth that had deemed such a time as suitable, always necessary herbs when they lacked a practiced medic, head swivelling about. Loose the fabric that looped across his forehead, vision obscured in some small part, exposed as paw rose and shifted the cover. Short the time of such before it was pulled back down into place, enough was it to catch those that had disturbed his thoughts.
Expected two, common their presence and welcome, though behind closed teeth such words held, the other inciting only confusion. Abandoned his prior task, turning upon his heel and began again his momentum, the exchange of canid and lagamorph bringing a hum to his lips. It seemed Damion had changed his tune where concerned the youth, casual his words, a conversation strange. "Is not every hunt partially luck." Smoothed his harsh tone beneath a mirth not often allowed to gently temper his words, at odds with the frown delicately drawn against his lips. "I find vision not necessary most of the time."
Away his attention moved, held as assessed the mud coated Aesior. No stranger was Vincent to the practice of fishing, the exact methods that which he could not speak on, thus viewed with some skepticism the stick the other bore. Some of it was dispelled when noticed the blood adorning tip, the bright points of shed scales that clung to pale strands, and the still aquatic creatures. Ridiculous still seemed the method, his few times viewing others performed largely with their own claws, reflexes honed to a point their speed may adequately match the fish they hunted. "I never would have thought a stick would do much against a scaly hide." With the presentation missed he bore no remark for the method Aesior had stumbled across, one even more ridiculous so many it best he did.
[/td][/tr][/table]Fishing was not within his repertoire, something he had not thought to remedy.
Always was there a time to acquire new talents, even for an old dog such as he though adamant those who spoke of such being incapable. His progress slowed, a walk that bore the secondary purpose of noting growth that had deemed such a time as suitable, always necessary herbs when they lacked a practiced medic, head swivelling about. Loose the fabric that looped across his forehead, vision obscured in some small part, exposed as paw rose and shifted the cover. Short the time of such before it was pulled back down into place, enough was it to catch those that had disturbed his thoughts.
Expected two, common their presence and welcome, though behind closed teeth such words held, the other inciting only confusion. Abandoned his prior task, turning upon his heel and began again his momentum, the exchange of canid and lagamorph bringing a hum to his lips. It seemed Damion had changed his tune where concerned the youth, casual his words, a conversation strange. "Is not every hunt partially luck." Smoothed his harsh tone beneath a mirth not often allowed to gently temper his words, at odds with the frown delicately drawn against his lips. "I find vision not necessary most of the time."
Away his attention moved, held as assessed the mud coated Aesior. No stranger was Vincent to the practice of fishing, the exact methods that which he could not speak on, thus viewed with some skepticism the stick the other bore. Some of it was dispelled when noticed the blood adorning tip, the bright points of shed scales that clung to pale strands, and the still aquatic creatures. Ridiculous still seemed the method, his few times viewing others performed largely with their own claws, reflexes honed to a point their speed may adequately match the fish they hunted. "I never would have thought a stick would do much against a scaly hide." With the presentation missed he bore no remark for the method Aesior had stumbled across, one even more ridiculous so many it best he did.
© MADI