Post by Raum on Sept 28, 2015 16:48:18 GMT -5
WARNING: GRAPHIC POST.
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[attr="class","pltxt"]A young wolf came across the carcass of a coyote.
But what was a wolf, after all? Was it having fur and nails ripped through from fleshy paws? Was it a nose that crinkled and tartar-covered teeth that smelled of a kill? Was it ears that moved with the noises around them, or a tail that swung in the breeze? Or was a wolf measured in his cunning instincts, his humanity—for lack of a better term? Was a wolf the sum of his actions, the totality of his life, the subtle meanings underneath his pawprints? Was he measured in kindness or success, or the fullness of his soul?
If a young wolf came upon a coyote carcass, the scene might be innocent enough—an adolescent, curious for knowledge perhaps. The wolf might smell the dead creature and allow it to rot. Perhaps he would foolishly take a bite, then pull away at the pallid rot on his teeth. Maybe he would pounce, to practice technique. He might wonder what killed it—was it hunted, or did it have a disease? Or maybe, if he were not so bold, he would graze over it, never giving it a second thought.
On the surface, a young wolf came across the carcass of a coyote. Beneath the skin, buried deep within the marrows of bone, black tar scalding through purple veins, no wolf remained.
Instead, a young monster came across the carcass of a coyote.
Raum was still young, after all. Despite what his insides held or how large his outsides had grown, he was unaware of his impending doom. But the darkness confused him the older he grew. Raum was older now, grown into his frame, and yet he had yet to make a single friend. He’d lacked interaction with anyone, really—save for his sister, Castalia, whom he sometimes intimidated. Sometimes, he felt like hurting her for no reason at all. She didn’t understand him. No one did. He didn’t even understand himself. But this—this, he could understand. Death was a close friend to all. It was up to the living whether or not they embraced him.
The hellion flipped the coyote over and over with his paws. Stepping on a leg, he dug his nails into flesh, and heard the bone crack beneath it. It was fascinating to think that this pitiful thing might have been fleeing from him days ago. Perhaps she had tiny kits somewhere when Nature slammed down upon her existence with a mighty hammer. With curdling precision, Raum sliced through the midsection of the creature, dark shards of partially dried blood crackling out slowly like ground coffee beans. The bloated, dead thing spilled its intestines onto the floor of the swamp, fallen keys off of a broken piano. He could hear the symphony.
He did not hold his breath as he sifted through the remains. The acrid smell burned his nose, but the young monster welcomed the rot to his sinuses like the dear friend it was. Maggots squirmed under his lips, and as he rooted upwards, he began pulling the ragged skin from its casing. And then, there it was: the skull revealed itself to him like a broken trophy, and a smile spread across his lips.
He broke pieces methodically. The orbital bone. The back of the cranium. Half of the teeth were already missing or broken—attacked, perhaps, or maybe this was simply an elderly creature. But most importantly, the canine tooth was intact. Fitting the skull snugly atop his own, Raum felt power surge through his body, and he smiled toothily despite himself, black flesh still stuck between his teeth.
A young monster came across the carcass of a coyote, that day. But someone would come across the young monster that day as well.
tags: Tala/Inara
words: 636
muse: good!
notes: Just waiting to hear back from Kate if she wants Inara to come here first and then call for Tala- if not, I'll let you know and you can just pop momma bear in instead. <33
But what was a wolf, after all? Was it having fur and nails ripped through from fleshy paws? Was it a nose that crinkled and tartar-covered teeth that smelled of a kill? Was it ears that moved with the noises around them, or a tail that swung in the breeze? Or was a wolf measured in his cunning instincts, his humanity—for lack of a better term? Was a wolf the sum of his actions, the totality of his life, the subtle meanings underneath his pawprints? Was he measured in kindness or success, or the fullness of his soul?
If a young wolf came upon a coyote carcass, the scene might be innocent enough—an adolescent, curious for knowledge perhaps. The wolf might smell the dead creature and allow it to rot. Perhaps he would foolishly take a bite, then pull away at the pallid rot on his teeth. Maybe he would pounce, to practice technique. He might wonder what killed it—was it hunted, or did it have a disease? Or maybe, if he were not so bold, he would graze over it, never giving it a second thought.
On the surface, a young wolf came across the carcass of a coyote. Beneath the skin, buried deep within the marrows of bone, black tar scalding through purple veins, no wolf remained.
Instead, a young monster came across the carcass of a coyote.
Raum was still young, after all. Despite what his insides held or how large his outsides had grown, he was unaware of his impending doom. But the darkness confused him the older he grew. Raum was older now, grown into his frame, and yet he had yet to make a single friend. He’d lacked interaction with anyone, really—save for his sister, Castalia, whom he sometimes intimidated. Sometimes, he felt like hurting her for no reason at all. She didn’t understand him. No one did. He didn’t even understand himself. But this—this, he could understand. Death was a close friend to all. It was up to the living whether or not they embraced him.
The hellion flipped the coyote over and over with his paws. Stepping on a leg, he dug his nails into flesh, and heard the bone crack beneath it. It was fascinating to think that this pitiful thing might have been fleeing from him days ago. Perhaps she had tiny kits somewhere when Nature slammed down upon her existence with a mighty hammer. With curdling precision, Raum sliced through the midsection of the creature, dark shards of partially dried blood crackling out slowly like ground coffee beans. The bloated, dead thing spilled its intestines onto the floor of the swamp, fallen keys off of a broken piano. He could hear the symphony.
He did not hold his breath as he sifted through the remains. The acrid smell burned his nose, but the young monster welcomed the rot to his sinuses like the dear friend it was. Maggots squirmed under his lips, and as he rooted upwards, he began pulling the ragged skin from its casing. And then, there it was: the skull revealed itself to him like a broken trophy, and a smile spread across his lips.
He broke pieces methodically. The orbital bone. The back of the cranium. Half of the teeth were already missing or broken—attacked, perhaps, or maybe this was simply an elderly creature. But most importantly, the canine tooth was intact. Fitting the skull snugly atop his own, Raum felt power surge through his body, and he smiled toothily despite himself, black flesh still stuck between his teeth.
A young monster came across the carcass of a coyote, that day. But someone would come across the young monster that day as well.
tags: Tala/Inara
words: 636
muse: good!
notes: Just waiting to hear back from Kate if she wants Inara to come here first and then call for Tala- if not, I'll let you know and you can just pop momma bear in instead. <33
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