HOME | DD

Description
Once I cried tears so boiling, they left a mark on my cheeks. Like a wildfire burning its way through the forest and leaving behind a corridor of charcoal. One by one, the arrows stuck into my hide, always surprising me with the pain they cause. But when the pain went away, they would scratch my spine, making me happy and yearning. When can I feel that pain again? Each adorns me like a feather decorates a peacock. My heart has screamed itself a window into the open air. A soldier peeking his head from the trenches, while the enemy hides behind him in the woods. A new arrow has made its place in my back. Its newly forged and sharpened tip cutting my leather like scissors shredding old photos. The scent of its newly cut wooden base like a scent of a mother to her child. This new arrow however, has old and worn feathers. It flies away from its flock like an ill finch. This arrow struck against the white bone like a miner picking at ore. But ivory doesn't bend for weak commitment. One day an arrow might poison me. Or I let one enter the trenches and kill the lone soldier. Until then, my plumes keep growing.

---

Do NOT use this artwork without the artist's permission!

.:Credits:.
Story, character, picture and art: Me Aki-san24 ©

Description
Once I cried tears so boiling, they left a mark on my cheeks. Like a wildfire burning its way through the forest and leaving behind a corridor of charcoal. One by one, the arrows stuck into my hide, always surprising me with the pain they cause. But when the pain went away, they would scratch my spine, making me happy and yearning. When can I feel that pain again? Each adorns me like a feather decorates a peacock. My heart has screamed itself a window into the open air. A soldier peeking his head from the trenches, while the enemy hides behind him in the woods. A new arrow has made its place in my back. Its newly forged and sharpened tip cutting my leather like scissors shredding old photos. The scent of its newly cut wooden base like a scent of a mother to her child. This new arrow however, has old and worn feathers. It flies away from its flock like an ill finch. This arrow struck against the white bone like a miner picking at ore. But ivory doesn't bend for weak commitment. One day an arrow might poison me. Or I let one enter the trenches and kill the lone soldier. Until then, my plumes keep growing.

---

Do NOT use this artwork without the artist's permission!

.:Credits:.
Story, character, picture and art: Me Aki-san24 ©