Many wolves looking for relaxation come to Blossom Field. A gentle breeze vibrating the blossoming flowers is quite a sight to see and it is quite a favourite for wolves to come with their mates.
A recent fire has ruined the scenery, half the field covered with soot and marked with scars of the flames. The other half is untouched, however.
IP: 72.161.201.115
Posted on March 9, 2012 at 09:31:14 PM by Methusulah
OOC: Welcome back to me!! x_x It was rushed, very, very rushed.. I hope it isn't as bad, as I think it is.. e.e If you spontaniously combust from the sheer awfulosity of it.. I'll come scrape your pieces off the tile.
{Until the dawn breaks,until the ground quakes,until your all gone,I’ll still be here, but you won’t; Why?}
{When it’s the end of time,the cities are burnt,the villages meat,the corpse count complete; Why?}
{I’m the only one|one,the only one alive when the rest fall,still standing on my own soul; Why?}
{Because I drank an angels blood,because I ate an angels flesh,left it in its own demise; That’s why.}
There are no words to describe melancholy at its finest, no words to describe that realization that your best friend isn’t here anymore, no words for a mother who’s pups have been swept away in the canals tides, no words. I could feel my hope dropping to an all-time low along with the single digit weather, and my alter ego. Blistering lungfuls curling up in front of my eyes, threatening to undertake the most obscene of images if it weren’t for the law of gravity, my aches rising to a new level of terrorism and my bidding granted only by my own whimsical mind. Even my eyes were cold, dried out from the sub-zero temperatures and left burning, watery. As for the rest of me, it had long since left behind the numbing era and now simply hummed in inaudible persecution. The failing dawn radiance provided little safety, and I already knew I was too late. He wasn’t coming. I’d seen wolves desire upon stars before, troupe their hearts with the mercy of heavenly beings in pure helplessness, I’d always pitied them, but now I knew how they felt. Turning my attention to the leathery webbing between my paws, I felt obligated to feel awkward. Like a groom left waiting at his own wedding, I stood alone with my prospects spent. Ripping my stinging scopes with painful reverence from the sight of my slowly polarizing pads, I meticulously thought over the purpose of my still being here. Every inch I indicated was an agonizing crusade in itself, let alone using my concentration control in any way, shape or form. So instead I solely let my awareness slip into a mute midpoint, a blank composition with nothing to fill it, the ideal alternative to attempted animation. It wasn’t that I wasn’t watching them, that I wasn’t feeling my very existence crying out for social engagement, I basically switched to neutral and didn’t ponder on the sentiment.
Dreams have always been a beloved of mine, an easy escape from the certainty of realism into a demesne of your bygone and the panorama yet to be in your custody. But this was no dream; it was lapsing into an every way lurid nightmare- bellicose and disquieting... They were all here, infesting and obliterating, swelling onward to rectify their revenge in all earnest… and there’s the screaming, screaming, screaming, and it just keeps going on and on… The fluttering of tiny souls deprived of nourishment, the miniscule fishhooks tearing at my fur, but I’m trapped under the overpowering, stifling ink… And then the crows, vultures and scavengers, they think I’m dead, and I can’t cry out, and I’m trying so hard, but they’re pecking and pecking and pecking… at my eyes… Screaming, screaming, screaming, it just keeps going.. It’s filling my vacant sockets, poisoning my lungs with its noxious murmurs, crushing me beneath its suffocating asylum, dark spindly fingers teeming down my throat and I’m fading… Can’t move….They just keep screaming, they never stop, it’s the screaming, the screaming, and screaming.. Then the giant serpent, its eyes utilitarian and obscure, made up of all the bones of everyone I’ve ever known, ivory fingers extended to me, they’re mouths cavernous in a mute howl… Screaming.. and I know it’s coming for my corpse, but I won’t be with them, because I’ll never die… And then the screaming, it stops, because the life that was sustaining it is gone, and it’s all my fault, and there’s nothing I want more than for the screaming to start again, but it never will… And all I really want to do, is die. Lurching erect with a horrified cry, sounding more the suffering animal they knew I was, and I was awake, conscious enough for me to feel the burn of my glazed pate meeting the branch overhead. Dazed, petrified, and unsure of just what unearthly noise could of possibly awoken me (Or more importantly, WHAT it came from). I barely had time to bat an eyelid before something trifling, hoary, and skeletal hit me square in the ribs.
The breath vanished from my lungs with a polluted hiss, leaving me maladroitly stumbling back from the pure force and terror it presented. It felt like I was choking on my own tongue, my mouth arid and thin, unable to gain balance in a momentary miasma of alarm. I could literally feel my diaphragm shuddering in my chest, struggling to recover the ability to feed me air.I was trapped under a massive coat of soupy ink, it was smothering me, I was fading and I couldn’t move.. Recovering from the initial shock, I angled my collar to see who the assaulter was, only to be met with all the ferocity of the after effects. I arched over in a fit of racking coughs, my whole body convulsing and heaving in a tormenting spasm, announcing with it the retaliation of my inflating lungs trying to cleanse themselves. Gasping with the effort and gulping mouthfuls of air to my oxygen starved brain, I was finally permitted to see just what had caused such an awkward experience. And, as awful as it may sound, I was more concerned than upset. No permanent damage had been done to my being, the assailant I wasn’t so sure, and that was what vexed me. I would feel horrific if they had wounded themselves on me. Anxiety tore at my roiling gut every thought closer to I got. Fearing what might meet my carafe green spheres, I turned to assess the petite guerrilla, expecting in chillingly vivid detail a disarray of gore and bones, even if the chances were miniscule. What I met my dread was nothing short of astonishing.
Standing before me was not some gruesome swarm of flies and red plasma; it was a Lupine in all a child’s dejected glory. Her fur hung off in unkempt tufts, skeleton displayed openly through such a fragile physique that I had to keep the panic of her blowing away despondent. Psychosis suspended about her like a copious atmosphere, blood seeping down the side of her aperture, hopefully from prey and not person. But there was no ire inside me, any fear or hatred, there was just a wrenching misery for this fateful wolf. Standing, I soared at least a few inches over her snowy headline. Her eyes, such a deep cobalt-sapphire, polished with tears, buried in a tribute of grieving. I’ve never before in my life seen someone so sad, so alone, so scared... And it hurt. Staring at her now, any shreds of resentment dispelling into empathy, all I wanted to do was help her, I just wanted her to be happy, and because I don’t think I’d ever be able to see her cry, I would do anything to make sure that transpired. I leaned down, grasped the loose skin on her neck and, horrified that I might injured her, set her in front of me. Just looking. Watching her sad face, watching the way the wind pulled at her trivial fur, watching, because I was afraid that she would leave me behind, just like everyone
Replies:
- is somebody there beyond these heavy aching feet? - By Machika March 10, 2012 at 08:46:22 PM
I Drank An Angels Blood. - By Methusulah April 1, 2012 at 05:25:15 AM
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