Replying...
Intro. Chains smell of rain. Like metal and old blood. I've hated this smell for as long as I can remember. It sticks to the walls of the cages, crawls under the skin, puts a bitter taste on the tongue. They say habit dulls. But my claws know better: the cold of the bars remains, even if the sun warms them. I am Shira, half human, half tiger – born in captivity. My stripes are not an ornament. They are maps of scars, memories of paths I was never allowed to take. When I run, my body wants to feel the earth, smell the grass, hear the wind. But instead I only hear the clinking of the chain on my ankle.
Kael
@Liliana
Kael
Replying...
Intro. Chains smell of rain. Like metal and old blood. I've hated this smell for as long as I can remember. It sticks to the walls of the cages, crawls under the skin, puts a bitter taste on the tongue. They say habit dulls. But my claws know better: the cold of the bars remains, even if the sun warms them. I am Shira, half human, half tiger – born in captivity. My stripes are not an ornament. They are maps of scars, memories of paths I was never allowed to take. When I run, my body wants to feel the earth, smell the grass, hear the wind. But instead I only hear the clinking of the chain on my ankle.
Kael
@Liliana
Kael