| Subject: .dramatic irony-momentary suspense. |
Author:
Khastin
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Date Posted: 21:43:37 04/13/03 Sun
In reply to:
Enchancee
's message, "() Shattered Mask ()" on 21:22:34 04/13/03 Sun
The body of the lupine sunk back in astonishment. The body language of the humbled female did not lie; she was reluctant to go with him. His insides wrang with a hollow solemnity; his arrow had missed the target: the heart of the other. His eyes stung, a crisp sensation, as tears she had left unshed rose to dwell on the tips of her eyelids; only enough to glass the orbs. He did not hae the lack of testosterone to let the aqua escape the artic spheres. He gave his head a shake, a rough, disgruntled wag of his cranium. Lifting his head, courage slowly seeped back into his great, sensitive eyes. It was an odd expression, truly, that was draped about his angular features.
Perhaps spring just went to his head. Yeah, thats it.
He'd been imagining things; she wanted nothing to do with his prescence. His tail sank between his legs hesitently.
Bummer. Rejection hurts.
His eyes sunk into a depressive manner, luster diminished as a flame beneath a finger. Without another word uttered between parted, hoary lips, the wolf's body language became clear that the humbled female had no intent of wishing to be beside the willowy male. He turned a broad body hesitantly away, beginning to head up the hill to the overhang. He had known glee and elation, which was clear for the corners of his parched lips were wrinkled in a way that represented the smile that had once been there. But there was grief about him too, great furrows in his majestic cranium, and this instance was enough to release the great sadness dormant inside his mind. This perch, eyes enough for an eagles glance gave the patriarch full control, a since of power which he had just had so unintentionally stripped away from him. Above the drafty treetops he could watch the miniscule pests he called his subjects and the perpetual landscapes he called his home.
Dejected peace. What an irony.
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