@forevenge said : 🔪 Point a weapon at my muse / from sadie 😈
despite the feverish day , the boiling glaucoma of the horizon , it’s a steelcold metal that burns the tip of his nose && sears the skin porcelain white . the scent of gunpowder triggers an itch at that he won’t acknowledge , crow’s feet cracking around his eyes against an otherwise youthful appearance . his face curiously untouched beneath blots of wear , oddly innocent . somewhere in striae hidden a supplicant of death .
❝ hello... miss ? ❞ soreness tugs against his lips when he offers a smile catching the sun between golden teeth . there’s hardly any water out in these parts && his had to be shared with a mule , a skinny && short four - legged thing . when it called it sounded like a cry && when it’s head nod with joy you could not help but find a wallow of pity congested in your stomach && for that reason he bore a softened sentimentality towards the mule . keeping the reins steady in one hand , the other resting on the saddle’s horn . nowhere’s the posture of a man held gun point . i could almost believe that naivete , oblivious to my life in another person’s hand . a walk of life not knowing what it was to fall from arms of oaked limbs . that sense of wonder lodged in scars that’ve been fading on his face since babel fell . he fixes the hat on his head . ❝ hope i’m not intruding on anything . ❞
