• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 380px; height: 125px; overflow: auto; text-align: justify]Cottonkit's emotions pooled around his paws, surfacing peacefully and swirling around him, bottled carefully yet still frolicking with enjoyment of their confinement. But what happened when the cap was busted? What happened when a dent, or even a crack, leaked a drop of sensitivity out into the cruel world? It melted. It fell to the ground, and seeped into the ground, never to be retrieved. To be consumed by the world and merely forgotten.
Well, Cotty knew that a scratch was being scraped repeatedly; and that scratch was at the pit bottom, where the softest contents lie. At the moment, they dribbled out. He tried to cover them up, to hold them in and make sure they weren't to be seen; to keep the balance. But conflicts occurred. This? It wasn't a conflict; it was the result of one. A big one.
An alabaster bundle was dampened, tucked into the sand of the shore with crystal orbs staring into his glimmering reflection. It was morning, and he hadn't an ounce of sleep, having been out all night. Yet his oceanic, cerulean orbs were wide, dry, and casted out at the sea. Four months. He was four moons old now. Oh, but what a wonderful surprise he'd gotten. The death of his mother. Cottonkit didn't care anymore. It was easy to break a child, especially a gentlemanly, kind and sweet one as Cotty. When he was broken, the water inside didn't spill out like tears flowing; No, no. The glass of the bottle shed it's shards, like a million vicious scorpions. Anybody in the mood to p'ss him off? They'd be left sobbing like a toddler.
- museless & rushed
[/fancypost]
[align=center][color=white][size=7pt]fancypost (c) truth