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06-10-2015, 03:05 PM
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Quickly—suddenly—agonizingly slowly, everything started crumbling to shit around me. But it was fine, too. Ice still curved around me on all sides; snow still clung to my fetlocks. There was still wind, it was still cold, stars still glittered in a sky that was blacker than I’d seen in a long time. I was still standing there, in snow; I still had four legs; I had a chest and ass, both too blocky and square to ever be feminine; I had two ears, two eyes, and one large, catastrophic mouth that pulled into something taut, stressed. But I was all there; lungs, kidneys, an asshole and a heart that was too large to keep carrying like this. I was still whole. I was still me. (Wasn’t I--?) The knowledge didn’t stop me from feeling wrong all over, though. I felt it—in my gut, in my skin, floating all around me (I think you'll find that your Pa—), and the air tasted different and the snow felt funny, too silken and rough on my skin and fur (-- will be a little late--) and my thoughts had been crystal-clear and on-point just a second ago but now they were starting to ramble and crumble and twist down corridors I didn’t want it to go— (--but instead they got me and now TOTO’S--) Dead, dead, dead. ( One thought penetrated my mind, blinding and hot and furious and urgent. You need to leave, I said to you, my whole body locked and loaded, and I felt you shift atop my head where you were perched, You need to go, now, ‘fore shit hits the fan. I said go! Get the fuck on, Cheek! And you—you with your tawny, headstrong eyes and your puffing, heartstrong chest and your sturdy, cockstrong talons—you wasted no time at all, immediately blowing me the fuck off like I ain’t even say shit, ignoring my ass, my worry for you, cuz there was no way you were gonna sit this shit out. I loved you for that—I loved you so hard it hurt, but it didn’t make my life any easier knowing I was dragging your lil’ baby ass into this mess with me. So I kinda hated you, too. Pa - here I am. I say to myself. My head snaps forward; my eyes go even harder if that’s possible, and my breathing is a heavy cloud that froths in the ice-cold air. Do I truly sound like that? The thought is a wordless emotion running through me—disgust, mostly, and a heady sense of shame at the smallness in it, the vulnerable bits I feel sometimes lurking in my heart. Is this the voice that Lee hears? "Last chance to fuck off kid. This ain't your fight." I swell at that—and instantly the shame is washed away, replaced with a roaring, gaping dragon of molten rage at the thought of this red-eyed bitch using my voice like that ( “PAAAAAA!!” --cuz he was supposed to meet me here--him and not this thing making me feel wrong all over, shifting the world around me in ways that I’m just able to notice. Where was my Pa. Where was my— @[Random Event] |
