At Leisure Lake the sun is always shining and only a few stray clouds roam the open sky; paradise is the one word that really describes it. This beautiful lake is clean and refreshing, the very best place to swim and fish. Pups are known to play here while older wolves watch at the side, engaged in their own activities.

Refresh/Reload

I AM THE SUN
IP: 98.206.163.124
Posted on February 8, 2014 at 02:02:18 PM by Filius Deum




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It’s morbid, really, how much pain a body can embrace in a lifetime. Not everybody is the same; some people will get more, others less. Pain is both as constant and universal as life, and Filius knew pain better than life itself. He was nurtured by it. It ran through his veins alongside blood, he drank it and breathed it and devoured it. Why? Pain was life, and pain was survival, and it seemed the more pain he endured the less he endured because after a while he just. . . Stopped. Stopped feeling, stopped caring, stopped living. The day his strength failed him, the only day it ever had, punctuated this defeat. Because that was the day pain became too sweet a word.
-
“I’m hungry.”
“I’m cold.”
“My legs ache.”
“How much longer?”
“Are you even trying anymore?”
“I’m too hot.”
“It’s too dark.”
“Stop being such a nuisance.”
“Why do you always complain so much?”
“I don’t see you dying. Do you see you dying? No? Then listen to me.”
“It’s too bright.”
“Why didn’t you catch that?”
“Shut up.”
“No, seriously, shut up. There is nothing you have to say that I want to hear.”
“Why don’t you kill me already?”
“I know you wish I was.”
“Come on, it would be so easy. It’s not like I can fight back.”
“Are you ignoring me?”
“My paws hurt.”
He hadn’t let up an inch the entire way into Blossom, his well of insults was bottomless and range of grumbles infinite. You could almost see the negativity pouring off his back in waves. Something was always wrong and it was always someone else’s fault, and he was a walking contradiction. One second it would be too wet, the next too dry, then too humid. It was painfully deliberate, and if you asked him why he’d say:
“I’m bored.” As if he fed off the exhaustion and frustration of others. Honestly, Filius was a rotten wolf to be around more times than not. Lashing out at everyone trying to help him, sneering and smirking his way through the depression that he always denied had taken root.
It was always,
“I’d spit on your pity sooner than accept it.” And,
“If I wanted your opinion I’d- wait, never mind. I don’t ever want it. Please stop speaking.” Practically everything that came out of his mouth was abominable and geared towards abuse. Even now, situated under the beachside trees with contentment just begging to be acknowledged, he looked as though he’d rather be dead. He was a bitter, bitter creature consumed by the past and left behind by the future. His future, specifically. The one he’d dreamt in so many nights. The one he’d created himself for. Deum, his emotions, his body, all of it— a pawn for violence. Without it, he was empty. Meaningless. Lost.
A bastard child.
But despite the shackles of bereavement pulling at his ankles and the weakness of his bones he still managed to be intimidating. Mean eyes, perpetually coiled muscles and curled lip, haunted grin, flashing teeth, venomous merit. He was beautiful with his unnaturally long fur and big ears, but you’d hardly notice it behind all the rage. And rage he did. Inside, outside, it was always present. A lethal perfume detectable on sight. Always angry, always resentful, he blamed the world for his problems. Even if it didn’t notice him.
He was waiting for someone. The only someone who’d ever earned an inkling of respect in his eyes, not that he’d ever tell them. Not because they were particularly strong or clever or admirable in any observable way, but because they stayed with him. Filius knew he was dreadful. He liked that about himself, actually. It was a weapon. It was all he had to defend himself now, so instead of biting and kicking and growling, he’d spit out a few nasty words and in no time everyone would clear out. Not this wolf, though. No. This was his wolf, who had earned his admiration so many months ago for doing nothing else but having the heart to cope with his unpleasantness.
His wolf.
His friend.
His guardian angel.

BECAUSE I AM THE SUN,
AND I AM THE MOON.
I WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE,
I WILL SPIT YOU OUT,
I WILL BURN YOUR EYES,
AND I WILL CAST AN EVERLASTING DARKNESS,
OVER THIS BARREN FUTURE,
THAT YOU CALL HOPE.


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