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Description
It is light in his eyes, pulsing and ever moving, a rainbow cascade that ripples and swirls, alive and very much aware. It is starlight and moonbeams caught in corners and the rays of the sun trapped across every surface, sparkling and sinking into cracks and crevices and lighting up the earth with a life pulse so brilliant, it would burn the eyes of any mere mortal who looked upon it. He, however, he tangles the lights in his fingers and plucks it to make his music, he grabs it in handfuls and throws it over his shoulders in a cloak of a billion stars and supernovas, he throws it into the sky and lets it rain back down to earth in a rush of brilliance, and he intertwines it with the wind so that it flows across the valley, bathing everything in a wash of comet bursts and streaks of silver and gold.

That is the power of the forest, the lifeblood, where he draws his strength and his magics and his tricks and he loves it.

But, as always, with the light comes the shadows. And he is just as familiar with them.

Most of the time they are the shadows of the forest, the long reaching fingers of the trees that scrape across the earth and dig down deep, deeper, deepest. These are the shadows that he pulls to the surface, the deep, dark shadows of ancient ways and lost times, these are the ones he uses when there is danger, when there is rage, when there is wrongness. They are ferocious and old and magnificent and they wrap themselves around him eagerly. He drags his fingers through their darkness and pulls away with claws, he tips them towards his face and swallows them whole and when he smiles his teeth are iron razors and his when he speaks his voice is angry screams, he presses them to his back and they are a thousand wings, scaled and feathered and torn and whole, and he wraps them around himself and becomes a beast of shadows and darkness.

Those are his shadows, the shadows of the forest, the shadows that he lives and breathes as easily as the light.

-----

Forest Guardian Once-Ler's got some mean powers at his disposal. Let's hope that he doesn't lose control.

Crits are helpful and appreciated~

The Lorax © Dr. Seuss.

Description
It is light in his eyes, pulsing and ever moving, a rainbow cascade that ripples and swirls, alive and very much aware. It is starlight and moonbeams caught in corners and the rays of the sun trapped across every surface, sparkling and sinking into cracks and crevices and lighting up the earth with a life pulse so brilliant, it would burn the eyes of any mere mortal who looked upon it. He, however, he tangles the lights in his fingers and plucks it to make his music, he grabs it in handfuls and throws it over his shoulders in a cloak of a billion stars and supernovas, he throws it into the sky and lets it rain back down to earth in a rush of brilliance, and he intertwines it with the wind so that it flows across the valley, bathing everything in a wash of comet bursts and streaks of silver and gold.

That is the power of the forest, the lifeblood, where he draws his strength and his magics and his tricks and he loves it.

But, as always, with the light comes the shadows. And he is just as familiar with them.

Most of the time they are the shadows of the forest, the long reaching fingers of the trees that scrape across the earth and dig down deep, deeper, deepest. These are the shadows that he pulls to the surface, the deep, dark shadows of ancient ways and lost times, these are the ones he uses when there is danger, when there is rage, when there is wrongness. They are ferocious and old and magnificent and they wrap themselves around him eagerly. He drags his fingers through their darkness and pulls away with claws, he tips them towards his face and swallows them whole and when he smiles his teeth are iron razors and his when he speaks his voice is angry screams, he presses them to his back and they are a thousand wings, scaled and feathered and torn and whole, and he wraps them around himself and becomes a beast of shadows and darkness.

Those are his shadows, the shadows of the forest, the shadows that he lives and breathes as easily as the light.

-----

Forest Guardian Once-Ler's got some mean powers at his disposal. Let's hope that he doesn't lose control.

Crits are helpful and appreciated~

The Lorax © Dr. Seuss.