[Scribbles for Cannedebonbon] A little worn by love.
In the midst of my despair, this was great fun. Just a little editing and about 20 minutes total, a little... ah... anthropomorphism and possibly fetishism. For cannedebonbon, a lovely sweetheart who only draws moe things.
(Wow, I really need to do more gift scribbles. It took me a good minute to find a prompt that wasn't about hair or something creepy I would write about myself. Anyone with prompts?)
In response to this prompt,
A little worn by love
In a warm bed, there lay a man
with great width yet little mass,
and some flatness at his centre
from perhaps laying prone too often.
He has wrinkled for all his years
of comfort and ease at her side,
but is valued ever more for his cares
and woes untold in the moving world.
He had a great crisis during youth,
or even before; it was hard to tell
when it started to fray and grow thin,
and bring dismay to her.
He was comforting even in distress,
a true source of security,
this knight, this fellow, this friend.
So what was there to do but fix it?
She went on a great journey
into a land of heat and toil,
to quest for the perfect foil,
an amour which shone in sunlight.
At last, it was found, a great white
cloth with green sigils galore,
of good thickness and perfect fit!
He shed a skin and was reborn.
Now into middle age, he sits proudly
upon a great throne in an empty room,
surrounded by softness and warmth.
The scents are familiar and welcome.
(Wow, I really need to do more gift scribbles. It took me a good minute to find a prompt that wasn't about hair or something creepy I would write about myself. Anyone with prompts?)
In response to this prompt,
A little worn by love
In a warm bed, there lay a man
with great width yet little mass,
and some flatness at his centre
from perhaps laying prone too often.
He has wrinkled for all his years
of comfort and ease at her side,
but is valued ever more for his cares
and woes untold in the moving world.
He had a great crisis during youth,
or even before; it was hard to tell
when it started to fray and grow thin,
and bring dismay to her.
He was comforting even in distress,
a true source of security,
this knight, this fellow, this friend.
So what was there to do but fix it?
She went on a great journey
into a land of heat and toil,
to quest for the perfect foil,
an amour which shone in sunlight.
At last, it was found, a great white
cloth with green sigils galore,
of good thickness and perfect fit!
He shed a skin and was reborn.
Now into middle age, he sits proudly
upon a great throne in an empty room,
surrounded by softness and warmth.
The scents are familiar and welcome.