by Blythe » September 3rd, 2006, 4:05 pm
..:: Blythe was glad that being a child meant that people wouldn't expect him to drink. Being this young came in handy, but there were times when it made things even harder, and they could get very hard. Some of the impossible things really aggravated him at times. Even if it made things easier sometimes, it wasn't worth it; his young body was his curse. There was nothing he could do about it, though, other than just be himself. Many times he would have to pretend to be young. He hated pretending. It was foolish. Yet, he often had to, like it was expected of him. Required. This was one of the reasons he didn't normally talk much, other than when he had to step forward. ::..
..:: Seeing Milton go and ask the adolescence to join them reminded Blythe of what he should be talking about. He believed that Milton had seen enough of the teen to believe the adolescence could help, or something. Blythe was really liking Milton, but he didn't understand him. Looking around the room, Blythe thought that even the other garrulous conversations wouldn't mask his words enough to say them around everyone here. No, he shouldn't talk about something as important as this around other people. Or around any guarded place. ::..
..:: The child left his chair, and addressed those with him, "We're going to go for a walk." Trusting that the others would join him for something as important as this, he made his way out of the tavern. He had to find somewhere more secluded, somewhere people wouldn't listen in. Blythe wondered if there was a place just to get help with what he needed. If there was one, he would find it, but for now he slipped between the tavern and the building beside it, knowing that it would open at the other end. ::..
Sweet child in time, you'll see the line;
The line that's drawn between good and bad.
See the blind man shooting at the world.
Bullets flying; taking toll.
If you've been bad, (oh) Lord, I bet you have
And you've not been hit, oh, by flying lead
You'd better close your eyes.
O-oh, bow your head.
Wait for the ricochet.