Cello - Strands of life (Complete)

The dew hung to the grass growing around him infectiously, with such desperation, as not to fade into the somewhat endless afternoon ahead. The sun seemed limitless as to frying the outer layer of Cello’s skin a bright pink tinge which seemed to be painted on every limb, despite tireless lathering with sun block.
Cello rolled onto his side, reaching out with his left hand to grasp the chilled heavenly flask topped with rich, smooth pure water from the springs. He detached the lid and thirst fully, consuming far much more than his body would ever absorb, and at least it cooled the sticky heat of the day.
Within a few minutes he was back on his feet furiously pounding his fists to exhaustion, he felt the callous impact of his punching bag against his worn knuckles as he thrust his right arm forward, then switching to his left arm, striking the bag with full strengths, the durable bang swung violently. He then drew back with fists hastily and began to spin with a rapid action, his balance flawless as he drew his limbs in intensifying speed. Then with swift propulsion of his left leg, the bag was torn off its hinges and fell heavily into the lush grass below. Cello took a deep breath, regaining strength. “Phew,” he huffed wiping manifold beads of sweat from his sultry brow. Once again taking to the aid of his water flask,
Cello now walked the path back to his home, broken bag in hand, flask slung around his shoulder, and he was still puffing hysterically as he waddled sorely. He took a few seconds to examine his hands, on the palm side, he saw his red palm, with skin beginning to rub off on the joints of his fingers, then when he revealed the underside, he was shocked to find such cuts upon his knuckles, seeping blood down his hot hands, thus providing simple cooling. “Egh, not so hard next time Cello,” he muttered to himself with content. Now finding his nose had connected comically with the door to his home. “Home so soon...” he muttered again, finding the continuous words to himself drained much breath.
With a quick glance to the clock Cello had become aware that it was 7pm. The suns still shone dynamically, with such gusto. He fled to the bathroom now his heart rate had returned to normality; it was time for a shower.
He left the shower, fresh and crisp, still glancing down at his clean washed knuckles, having the blood washed off them; they also showed the total exhaustion the rest of Cello’s body was showing. Cello had an early night, returning to his soft, now somewhat tender mattress, drawing over him his glossy sweet sheets. The night was short and greatly effective.


Ill have longer posts later, just an intro though, get you used to Cello.

Great job, Cello! You're an awesome role-player. Keep up the good work. Nice to see work like this once in a while.

Everyone else can learn from this guy, so get readin'!