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02-04-2014, 11:35 AM
still a credit to your ruse, what a beautiful excuse
to never open up your eyes and see the things you lose
to never open up your eyes and see the things you lose
One beat. Two beats. Three, four, five, six; the sound of life was roaring in his ears. His heart was pounding, the back of his mouth dry. He swallowed, swallowed nothing, pale eyes going from one, to the other, to.. to the most fucked-up thing he'd ever seen. His gaze stuck on it in sheer disbelief. No.. no no no nono... Only a dragon could've been worse, but a dragon would've been normal at least. For what did approach on little lithe hooves, if not a fucking wolf's head? It was the body of a child not even half-grown, all long, narrow limbs and angles, but with a wolf's head. A wolf's head with a mouth full of huge, glittering, sharp teeth.
Heart racing but expression stoic, he turned his head towards the deranged, half-dead Ktulu, as if to say are you kidding me?. But of course, she was not on his side; she had never been. What have you done to Ophelia? Did she roam the darkness blackened and diseased too, nothing but terror seeping through her veins? A black heart pounding dust through empty veins? She was everything pristine, the starkest of white, and the thought of her walking this desolate shadow-world with gore oozing from open, infected wounds made him want to scream.
He glanced at Irma, but the leaves were in the way. He couldn't see her, his lovely white little companion with her stony heart. It made his soul ache.
I wanted to see you one last time.
"I can smell his soul..." The wolf growled and Mauja's ears clenched tighter against his neck, frigid eyes settling on it. Mauja hated it. He hated it, loathed it, and feared it.
But there was no time for fear now. Every time had come and gone: with their hungry eyes searing his skin, it seemed only the time to die remained.
He swallowed dust again, dreamed of clear water and sunlight. Jaws clenched. Eyes blazed. And his mortal heart kept pounding, pounding, pounding.
"It smells GOOD!"
Shut the fuck up. That was Irma.
Then everything happened at once.
The edges of his vision blackened as those jaws split open wider and wider, darkness and rows of teeth swallowing up the night and the forest and everything: in deathly silence Mauja spun on his haunches, an ice spike slamming up from the ground where he had stood but a heartbeat ago, to, perhaps, punch the looming face of death in the mouth, and buy him another worthless moment of life. For what did he fight, if he already knew how this would end? For pride? Bravery? He fought for no one but himself, with no one for witness; no one would know, nor care, how he died.
It didn't matter. He was past the point of reason. He only knew the pounding of his heart and the utter despairing exhaustion burning through his leaden limbs, and the din of his own mind's voice whispering IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou over and over again as the owl gently rocked and cradled his fraying mind.
And then his body stopped breathing. Sides heaved and dragged night air in, but he was drowning, listening to the distant sound of Ktulu condemning him to death. She was somewhere far above the surface, death's black hand extended through the starlight and into the murky waters, beckoning for his tired old soul.
His mind's chant changed to fuck you, and, heart pounding panic, he tried to shatter hers with ice, fighting to reclaim what few breaths he might have left in this world.
Heart racing but expression stoic, he turned his head towards the deranged, half-dead Ktulu, as if to say are you kidding me?. But of course, she was not on his side; she had never been. What have you done to Ophelia? Did she roam the darkness blackened and diseased too, nothing but terror seeping through her veins? A black heart pounding dust through empty veins? She was everything pristine, the starkest of white, and the thought of her walking this desolate shadow-world with gore oozing from open, infected wounds made him want to scream.
He glanced at Irma, but the leaves were in the way. He couldn't see her, his lovely white little companion with her stony heart. It made his soul ache.
I wanted to see you one last time.
"I can smell his soul..." The wolf growled and Mauja's ears clenched tighter against his neck, frigid eyes settling on it. Mauja hated it. He hated it, loathed it, and feared it.
But there was no time for fear now. Every time had come and gone: with their hungry eyes searing his skin, it seemed only the time to die remained.
He swallowed dust again, dreamed of clear water and sunlight. Jaws clenched. Eyes blazed. And his mortal heart kept pounding, pounding, pounding.
"It smells GOOD!"
Shut the fuck up. That was Irma.
Then everything happened at once.
The edges of his vision blackened as those jaws split open wider and wider, darkness and rows of teeth swallowing up the night and the forest and everything: in deathly silence Mauja spun on his haunches, an ice spike slamming up from the ground where he had stood but a heartbeat ago, to, perhaps, punch the looming face of death in the mouth, and buy him another worthless moment of life. For what did he fight, if he already knew how this would end? For pride? Bravery? He fought for no one but himself, with no one for witness; no one would know, nor care, how he died.
It didn't matter. He was past the point of reason. He only knew the pounding of his heart and the utter despairing exhaustion burning through his leaden limbs, and the din of his own mind's voice whispering IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou over and over again as the owl gently rocked and cradled his fraying mind.
And then his body stopped breathing. Sides heaved and dragged night air in, but he was drowning, listening to the distant sound of Ktulu condemning him to death. She was somewhere far above the surface, death's black hand extended through the starlight and into the murky waters, beckoning for his tired old soul.
His mind's chant changed to fuck you, and, heart pounding panic, he tried to shatter hers with ice, fighting to reclaim what few breaths he might have left in this world.
