Post by Celmaru Waterfield on Jun 12, 2019 22:00:58 GMT
A lone hybrid was beside himself with monotonous strolling. As of late, the recent misadventures that the hybrid had embarked on had become utterly exhausting to even ponder over. Celmaru Waterfield, the debilitated hybrid in question, trudged along within the expansive fields of the Northern Wastes. The day had been as bland as the last -- excluding one of last week. Celmaru found little to enjoy, therefore. Another day wandering, shuffling throughout the world, none to consider home away from home.
The hybrid sighed to himself, guiding his palm to knead away his contorted facial expression. The early summer's heat attempted to blast down upon him; albeit to relatively mixed success. Often found in a blank, black shirt with a blue hem, the Sun wasn't much of a friendly presence to Celmaru. Regardless, Celmaru thumbed over the aggravating bags beneath his optical bullshit; unintentionally reminding himself that sleep was becoming a luxury. Sleep, of which, had been further and further disturbed. The majority of them displayed the visage of the same -- or perhaps entirely similar -- women. They often seemed to call for him, albeit that surely wasn't the case.
Celmaru was likely going insane over the past few years of isolation. Whether or not that was to be true, however, the hybrid flopped himself over. The oddly fertile soil was an ample cushion for spontaneous napping. That, or at least absentminded resting. Who cares? No one did. Celmaru didn't. Celmaru waged that he was unable to.
Time for your daily dose of freshly angst'd edge Oreiju .
WC: 245
TWC: 245
