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Voodoo
"Son, when you grow up would you be the savior of the broken,
the beaten and the bad?" Liquid time to follow shortly after "WHATCH THIS!" Even while the sun begins to dip below the calm waves, the stale heat it leaves behind lingers for the night. Soothing pastel skies taint the frothing water as waves rush up the beach, high tide coming in quickly to wash away the remains of an unexpected battle. The air is stagnant but more bearable than it had been back home. You left Ouija back at the oasis, scared that she just may overheat if she keeps wandering around without the protection of shade and water. It seemed like every half hour or so, you'd push that strange barrier that's been crowding our space and call out for the mutt, her bratty teenage voice responding in your skull moments later. Often times it was an "I fiiiiiiinneee!", sometimes it was a "Yes, sleeping please." From the groggy connection that clung to the later, you would chuckle a bit to yourself and let her fall back asleep. You stand alone now, without the company of your beloved companion, worry twisting your stomach into a tight knot while you stare down at the eroding battle ground from the comfort of a tall sand dune. The wind sweeps up the gradual slopes from over the ocean, playing with your knotted, curly mess of hair, the sweat catching bits of sand and causing the moist spots to become even more visible due to a thin white film. Uncountable hooves battered the beach, churning the dark, damp sand up from below the surface, etching an illustration into it's skin and leaving the story locked inside for no one else to know. Faux bloodied lips tighten and your brows furrow slightly below your thick forelock, empty eyes staring down at the scene below. Was there a fight? The unfamiliar sting of battle prods into the back of your head, the scar that hides below a thin streak of white hair burns; the only true wound you have to prove that at one time in your life, you were not scared. Finally, you swallow hard, thick tail arched off of your backside, and begin to wander down the warm hill of sand to investigate. "Voodoo." 'Ouija.' 'Voices' Ignore any weird mistakes, I had to reword some of the post after I read more into The Whatch. ._.
Table by Frostie |
EVERYTHING YOU'RE RUNNING AWAY FROM
IS IN YOUR HEAD
![[Image: 5389e9aca8b63]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5389e9aca8b63)
Please tag him in every post!
IS IN YOUR HEAD
Please tag him in every post!
