[P] eyes on fire - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: [P] eyes on fire (/showthread.php?tid=21836) |
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eyes on fire - Volterra - 12-04-2015
@Sikeax yay Orangemoon! RE: eyes on fire - Sikeax - 12-15-2015 Sikeax, Dread hangs in her head like the noose that’s destined to take a life, staring it’s subject into the eyes so that it knows there will be worse to come. The white mass of skin is enough to make her insides scream. She’s never gotten the chance to see burns up close with the exception of sunburns, and the sight of it alone is enough to roll her stomach into knots.
Hobgoblin’s wings are scorched to black along their tips. Holes fill up the places where he’d once bore lovely wings, dripping blood behind their black shield as it hangs from his lips. A wall goes up every time she makes an attempt to beg him to stop worsening his situation, to her heal his wounds so that some day he might be able to fly again. He’s just a baby. Why do you have to treat scared children in such a way? She knows he doesn’t like to being called a baby, but when he cries over his wings, tearing the flesh and releasing small whines of pain, she knows that beyond his facade of hatred, pride and aggression is a child who has yet to make himself a man. The cracks in her frail, porcelain mold of a heart deepen because she has tried one more time, desperately extending her neck and possibly worsening her situation just to make sure he’s okay and that he’ll be okay in the future, only to have him totter away from her love. Please, so you’ll heal quicker. A small chirp, hollowed out with sadness, floats from him and sinks her heart. Water climbs her sides and slips over the burns on her neck without acknowledgment. The lack of pain furthers her in fear in how bad she’s been wounded, in just how bad his own wounds are for him when he refuses to let her care for him. Someone else can always do better than myself. As his beautiful silver body slips into a black mass of fur with the same burns wrapped around his front legs, it comes to question if he’ll ever function the same way. Mortally wounded before he even had the chance to live his life to the fullest. Cries of pain bring wincing eyes and cringes across her wasted features, curiosity and temptation across his mind. Wounds do not stop his natural instinct for food and the one thing that gave him a sort of ferocity in the world that made an attempt to destroy him, even both of them. He flogs her with his suffering with any try made at movement. Blood and burned skin follows in his path, and when she wishes to wail and sob, to stream tears down her honey cheeks from pain while she forces herself after him, there is nothing, all cold death that has no savior and only purgatory. Please, let me carry you. What if you hurt yourself enough in the future that you never walk again? She crumbles and breaks at the face he makes at her when he comes back to her like a rebellious child who is deep down loyal and desperate for safety and comfort, dripping depression at such speed that it strikes her in waves. What should be talons or claws is nothing more than wounded skin when it touches her, rubbing against her body and possibly staining it with blood. She can’t see if he’s bleeding or not though he probably already is. Like the Blood rains from the ceiling and glitters. Beneath it is a white face she can barely remember, blurred behind the mask of suffering and immediate shock from their 'attack'. Words commit suicide upon her velvet lips, gone before she’s sure they even existed. Hobgoblin, on the hand, through his loathing of life(surely adopted from Sikeax) and suffering, cannot defeat his need for survival. Nails dig through her in a reminder that in their wounded state, she had neglected to help him receive food. Diving might of brought something small if she could manage it, but being underwater felt like the last thing on her mind. Embarrassment cloaks her when he begins an onslaught of relentless begging, chirping at the red reptile up in the ceiling. Don’t do that. I’ll get you food soon. But he chooses to ignore her, letting his cries increase in volume in childish hopes of achieving food. OOC: Hobgoblin is a black serval and making this noise like a child. talk @Volterra RE: eyes on fire - Volterra - 12-15-2015
@Sikeax RE: eyes on fire - Sikeax - 12-19-2015 Sikeax, Embarrassment hits her harder when she figures out that they’ve been noticed. It strikes her like a freight train, and when she feels the urge to recoil and escape, he takes no notice. The cries fly from his jaws like a siren. She’s such a neglecting mother than her first child probably wouldn’t have survived with her, especially in this state and how well she shows she can care for her own companion.
If you’ll stop, I’ll hunt for you later. We’ll dive together. How far would his desperate pleas lead them? When the red dragon chooses to ignore them, she has nothing to say to them. The attitude showed a lack of discipline. He walked all over her day in and day out, and where did it lead them to? Burns, mortal wounds, possible life-threatening infection. All but another failure upon the list. A white face turns to meet them. Hope is given that maybe it’s the mare that was there for them at the attack, but with his lips curled upwards and neck held high, smelling her as if she is some It might as well be. Sex isn’t an activity she’s very well interested in as of this second. People had a way of ruining that. He gives her his voice to assure her that yes, Hobgoblin is hungry, as if his cries for scraps from the dragon isn’t enough to inform her that she’s failed in feeding him. “I’m aware. Neither of us are in the shape to hunt for his needs.” She watches for some sort of pity in their eyes. She won’t beg from strangers, but Hobgoblin’s hold on her emotions had a heavy sway to it. “Is it annoying you that he’s hungry?” A whine follows her, teamed with the anxious flick of a tail when she remembers that his needs are just as important as her own. Begging couldn’t hurt, could it? “He’s wanting to know if you could spare him anything." talk @Volterra RE: eyes on fire - Volterra - 12-21-2015
@Sikeax RE: eyes on fire - Sikeax - 12-22-2015 Sikeax, There’s something about him, something about those crimson eyes with the dark shadows that make her notice that she’s no longer standing on equal ground. In her herd, she stands high with the elite. It’s ground she’s gained through determination that pushed her through the deepest days of her depression and led her to stand on a pedestal when now all that she strives for is to stand on the same group with all of her family, most importantly the small group of healers she’d grown so attached to. For her, there was supposed to be respect that’s never been noticed. A feeling of power. Hobgoblin wears that feeling for her, but right now, he’s so caught up in the hopes of food that he can’t even think of that.
Here she stands, purely Sikeax as she once was when their souls weren’t tied, like a sinner casted into the depths of hell who finally crawls on their knees in front of Lucifer himself. And oh, how he makes her on edge with this eyes, the wicked smile that makes her want to crumble before him. He puts her attention towards the dragon, turning her pretty baby blues in head to look at the scaled mass. She can’t bring herself to move her neck in fear of what it might do, and to turn herself away from him, whoever he is, would be like spitting death in the face. A proposition is made. With it, she sinks further and further into a beggar, forced to live at the bottom of the food chain with the sick, weak and old because someone who couldn’t control a dragon, but who is she to point fingers when she cannot even control Hobgoblin? Excitement encourages her as he changes, shifting upon clawed feet as screams fill the air. Hunger pushes him on to beg more when chirps litter his lips. His mouth never once chooses to close through the entire presentation of food, leaping with his wounded wings flapping as hard as they can when the dragon circles low. Too scared to fly, he doesn’t make pursuit. Out of love and fear of how far hunger will push him, she breaks at least. “Hobgoblin, go with the dragon if you can. He’ll give you food.” He ignites in a flurry, flinging himself upon shattered wings, driven on by the idea of food. His flight is awkward and clumsy while she watches in partial horror and hope as he throws his body into the foliage with jaws wide, cries pouring out from him like he’s waited for this moment his entire life and cannot wait any longer. Alone, unprotected, abandoned, it’s time to make the deal with the devil. The advance is enough to make her step back, pawing outwards with one leg in an attempt to push him backwards. “You have to promise me that nothing will happen to him from your dragon. I accept your offer but I want safety for him before you do anything to me. He’s still a baby and has had enough.” And with that, she becomes all that she’s told herself never to be. Sold out for a meal that wasn’t even for herself, pushed on by love for someone who destroys her without second thought. What a waste of pride. OOC: Sia officially consented to Vol with this. I probably won’t reply after this post unless it’s absolutely needed so it’ll ‘fade to black’ Hobgoblin changes to his Wyvern form about half way through the post. talk @Volterra RE: eyes on fire - Volterra - 12-22-2015
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