Proficiently Awkward
Professional Cynic
(( I'm a bit rusty and had no idea where to start, so I just sort of set the scene and kept things vague! ^^; ))
Dusk had only just begun to paint the horizon; a desperate clash of color to reel in the encroaching inky velveteen of night. The last dying light of evening backlit the city-scape, casting long shadows over the crumbling remains of a once bustling society. Towering skyscrapers, once glittering steel and plate-glass, had been reduced to skeletal structures. Steel rebar frames and precarious platforms, choked by creeper ivy, loomed threateningly over pavement cobbled with age. Crimson-rusted shells of vehicles clogged the winding streets, half-hidden by waving savannah-grasses. Highway bridges slithered out into the waters of the open ocean deltas, only to abruptly end amid lazily slapping waves. It seemed, at some pivotal point in history, life had merely ended. Disappearing into the ages. Nothing but the eerie cooing of wind through time-forgotten spaces remained.
Snap.
Sharp-edged mussels and clams spent their existence glued against the edges of the concrete structures that met with the briny sea. The slowly receding tide had opened up a variable buffet. Tide-pools teemed with sea life and promised an easy meal. A kohl-stained muzzle worked greedily, gnawing with relentless gusto at the brittle shells of the mollusks. Setting pearly molars nearly flush with a flaking concrete pillar, the gangly canid set to the task of filling his belly.
Fur mottled with a rosette pattern of black, burnt orange, and white was a beacon against the slate-grey scenery. Camouflage, or being discreet, was not on the wild-dog’s mind. Easing the bitter pangs of hunger in his gut was far, far more appealing. Jet-black ears were swiveled back near his neck, engrossed in his task.
Snap.
Another mollusk gave way. The canine jawed sloppily, losing half of his spoils and gobbling down jagged chips of calcium in his haste. Despite his urgency, each morsel of tender pink flesh he managed to choke down was a small victory. The stiff-pelted white brush that was his tail offered short, self-rewarding wags. As the empty feeling in his belly began to subside, the wild-dog regained some composure. He worried the mussels away with a bit more precision, eating carefully.
Snap.
Dusk had only just begun to paint the horizon; a desperate clash of color to reel in the encroaching inky velveteen of night. The last dying light of evening backlit the city-scape, casting long shadows over the crumbling remains of a once bustling society. Towering skyscrapers, once glittering steel and plate-glass, had been reduced to skeletal structures. Steel rebar frames and precarious platforms, choked by creeper ivy, loomed threateningly over pavement cobbled with age. Crimson-rusted shells of vehicles clogged the winding streets, half-hidden by waving savannah-grasses. Highway bridges slithered out into the waters of the open ocean deltas, only to abruptly end amid lazily slapping waves. It seemed, at some pivotal point in history, life had merely ended. Disappearing into the ages. Nothing but the eerie cooing of wind through time-forgotten spaces remained.
Snap.
Sharp-edged mussels and clams spent their existence glued against the edges of the concrete structures that met with the briny sea. The slowly receding tide had opened up a variable buffet. Tide-pools teemed with sea life and promised an easy meal. A kohl-stained muzzle worked greedily, gnawing with relentless gusto at the brittle shells of the mollusks. Setting pearly molars nearly flush with a flaking concrete pillar, the gangly canid set to the task of filling his belly.
Fur mottled with a rosette pattern of black, burnt orange, and white was a beacon against the slate-grey scenery. Camouflage, or being discreet, was not on the wild-dog’s mind. Easing the bitter pangs of hunger in his gut was far, far more appealing. Jet-black ears were swiveled back near his neck, engrossed in his task.
Snap.
Another mollusk gave way. The canine jawed sloppily, losing half of his spoils and gobbling down jagged chips of calcium in his haste. Despite his urgency, each morsel of tender pink flesh he managed to choke down was a small victory. The stiff-pelted white brush that was his tail offered short, self-rewarding wags. As the empty feeling in his belly began to subside, the wild-dog regained some composure. He worried the mussels away with a bit more precision, eating carefully.
Snap.
