During the day, sentries guard the sleeping. When the sky is dark and the moon dances with the stars, this is when the real fun begins. Munashii Gekko's forest is the only haunt where you can find your local misfits all in one place. A land of the forbidden and forgotten, a place that is riddled with dangers of a whole different kind. The wolves here have long misplaced their rightful minds, and now live like creatures damned to prowl and lurk through the night. It's easy to lose yourself here, sanity was sure to fade away and wither; there was never anything normal about this nefarious nest. The silent threats that whispered in the breeze were enough to deter even the largest of demons around. It was not strength nor wit that ensured your survival here with Eric, and challengers would be torn down with a morose lethality - there was nothing left in his cold blue eyes that promised mercy to anyone who dared to overstep their worth. So, would you give up the sun for the moon and stars? Do you have enough vigor to become a well regarded sentry? - Put on a game face to step up and pass the sepia king's test or turn and leave before he catches your scent. You never know who wants to snack on your delicious blood in this forest.

Refresh/Reload

I AM NOT THE MONSTER
IP: 35.11.213.53





I am unremarkable. I had known that long before I crossed this border; a white wolf in the throes of a long winter has little option but to concede that he is nothing but a moving snow bank, or a breathing snowflake. But I had spent time honing my craft, the frozen monster who crept upon the unsuspecting creature, to its disadvantage a deep, rich sienna brown that in fall is a beautiful drape, but in this season, my season, is a mantel of death.

I snapped that rabbit’s neck. Moved on. Nothing to see here, perhaps just a little red on the teeth, and the grim set of the mouth that fought for simple existence. I am a survivalist. Nothing more. I am unremarkable.

I do not know what it is about the ordinary that makes it seek out the extraordinary, or even the simple way that life seems to find its plain little canvases and throw at them the splatters of life, a myriad of problems and laughter and friendships and death. Which is this howl that causes my ears to twitch now? Problems, laughter, friendships, or death?

Problems. Laughter. Friendships. Death. I tend to chuckle a tad, the scratch vibrating against my throat and warming the hollow of my tall bod. They all seem synonymous in the end, do they not? Laugh with me, at this impossible life, laugh at me as I become intoxicated with the thought of impending adventure, the unremarkable meeting the remarkable, spinning on long limbs during my run and slicing directly through the territory towards the sound. I will say to them, “Hello to my next new adventure,” and I will smile and dance, my flat eyes will flash with gaiety, my thick banner swinging with the tempo of life.

It is as if friction grinds against my paws, and the wind tugs back my tail, pulling me up to the meeting spot, a nicely protruding central location in the territory surrounded by skeletons of Blossom’s characteristic forest and a smear of evergreens, at an adultish-ly moderate pace that begets my former childish excitement. I do not need a home. Nature is my home. I do not need family. I have known this for a long time.

But look at you Munashii Gekko, assembled in the fighting strength of two before your fearless leader! I can’t help but become instantly enamored, my fine ears perked and eager with a strong urge that I should slip a sly grin across my maw, as my associates seem to be doing standing before their Queen, speaking witty truths. I like her, and only partially because her cleverness precedes her when one steps into the clearing and sees the strategic position of her throne.

She looks like me, powerful in this season, invisible now only to erupt into the next as completely unavoidable. Our fellow wolves (packmates? Am I in this thing? What am I doing?) are beautiful, I can credit them that much. There is as much to be said about fire as there is about ice. The soft gray girl glints from the corner through panes of lilac glass. What unheard of masterpieces! I can’t manage the coy grin of my counterparts, but only a broad smile as I drop my head before the Lady of the moment, Ameira herself, and utter, I’m actually the Queen.” Bullocks, I’ve done it again! Here I am prostrating myself for the promise of a different life and yet the opportunity for the joke was so devastatingly clear that I couldn’t help but take it. I throw a playful wink at Storm and continue to bumble on, as it’s really too late now. “Seeing as you all know that I am nothing close to a regale, that I am instead a wanderer, and a lonely one at that, I seek admission into your pack with the utmost sincerity and the promise to never assume your title again.” A slight pause. “In any case, I do not think I look nearly feminine enough to pull it off.”




I am the cold of the night that steals the breathe from your lungs. I creep in slowly and prickle all along the way, I carve at you as if with a knife and I diminish you. You are crippled. You beg, and are ignored. So what do I do with it?
I give it back to you. Do not judge me, I am no sadist.
I am not the monster they make me out to be.

-F R Ě O




Replies:


Post a reply:
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message:
Password To Edit Post:




Create Your Own Free Message Board or Free Forum!
Hosted By Boards2Go Copyright © 2020


<-- -->