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+----- Thread: brain dead . vathmos (/showthread.php?tid=10166)
brain dead . vathmos - AMUNET - 08-20-2019
— Nocturnal , the dark sky is stark against the light of the town the clan claims ; the clan ament has claimed as his ( until his sisters, his mother are found - until he can return to them this clan , this place is his . his the way the old one was ; salt and sand and bitter softness , until ament can find a way back to the island that was once his , when he can return to himself . ) This place, these people are his ; as nature claims a life so does ament claim this clan , this stake that he will protect it as he discovers it and it in turn protects him . It is the law of the ancients ; it is the only law he knows . One of pacts and oaths sworn into the marrow ( because what stays while the rest of him rots ? his mind is already static , his enemies only flesh ) ; even six feet under - thousands of years past - ament will guard them ; treasure them - and hunt them in turn .
because , in the end - he could . ament's temper and his reason are too thin for anything else ; for friendship or relationships with creatures he doesn't understand - and in turn do not understand him . Mother tried his best , but ament and his sisters will always look at clans and their pack as different things entirely ; a divide that had been there since birth and ament has no idea who started ; but has no qualms about trying to fix.
( even without his sisters ; ament is still too different ; to savage to ever be considered a "clanmate" )
just a pet the Lygari's words linger, even now - with her mind carved into his ; he cannot excuse anything but perfect clarity . he is too . . .
savage
it was never something that bothered him ; never something to be ashamed of with his sisters - with his mother's cold shadow across the skies - even now the chill settles into his bone feels hollow without mother's presence ; everthing feels mostly of hollowness and static . it still , ins't something he is ashamed of ; he knows nothing else beside his savagery ; his wraith ; and his curiosity for these clans ( these clans that are not like him ; not like his sisters but he is alone now - it is only him and these curiosities in their clans and the s t a t i c in his b o n e s - )
the stench of rot is always within this new clan's lands ; a part of the terrain , swamps are in a constant state of decay with the humidity and mutated wildlife that flock towards the clan's eager maws , it is nothing new to him , but this smell is a lot more pungent - a lot closer for being so far from the cluster of a town that the clan claims as it camp . He does not flinch away from the smell ; does not let it deter him ( when has anything ever deterred the omegan vernandi ? - unless there was a collar around his throat and a voice carved into his skill , nothing ; and nothing will ever [b]again - ) he presses on .
( because between the stench of rot ; between the stench of this clan and the living - wraith has always been something ament can taste ; and it is sharp here ; constant - as the cutting stench of fresh blood )
in the darkness ; ament's form is like a wraith in the night , he glides between open roots and his feet are silent save for the occasional splash of water he cuts through - a soot covered face and bright blue eyes look across the den of one of the clanmates of the tanglewood - one of his ; and watches from the stillness to be noticed or ignored .
[member=6879]Vathmos[/member]
because , in the end - he could . ament's temper and his reason are too thin for anything else ; for friendship or relationships with creatures he doesn't understand - and in turn do not understand him . Mother tried his best , but ament and his sisters will always look at clans and their pack as different things entirely ; a divide that had been there since birth and ament has no idea who started ; but has no qualms about trying to fix.
( even without his sisters ; ament is still too different ; to savage to ever be considered a "clanmate" )
just a pet the Lygari's words linger, even now - with her mind carved into his ; he cannot excuse anything but perfect clarity . he is too . . .
savage
it was never something that bothered him ; never something to be ashamed of with his sisters - with his mother's cold shadow across the skies - even now the chill settles into his bone feels hollow without mother's presence ; everthing feels mostly of hollowness and static . it still , ins't something he is ashamed of ; he knows nothing else beside his savagery ; his wraith ; and his curiosity for these clans ( these clans that are not like him ; not like his sisters but he is alone now - it is only him and these curiosities in their clans and the s t a t i c in his b o n e s - )
the stench of rot is always within this new clan's lands ; a part of the terrain , swamps are in a constant state of decay with the humidity and mutated wildlife that flock towards the clan's eager maws , it is nothing new to him , but this smell is a lot more pungent - a lot closer for being so far from the cluster of a town that the clan claims as it camp . He does not flinch away from the smell ; does not let it deter him ( when has anything ever deterred the omegan vernandi ? - unless there was a collar around his throat and a voice carved into his skill , nothing ; and nothing will ever [b]again - ) he presses on .
( because between the stench of rot ; between the stench of this clan and the living - wraith has always been something ament can taste ; and it is sharp here ; constant - as the cutting stench of fresh blood )
in the darkness ; ament's form is like a wraith in the night , he glides between open roots and his feet are silent save for the occasional splash of water he cuts through - a soot covered face and bright blue eyes look across the den of one of the clanmates of the tanglewood - one of his ; and watches from the stillness to be noticed or ignored .
[member=6879]Vathmos[/member]
Re: brain dead . vathmos - Vathmos - 08-21-2019
Vathmos only awoke at two times of the day, and rarely any others. Dusk, and night. She only hunted at these times too, as she was a more nocturnal creature. She considered herself to be more savage then her fellow clanmates. Spotted Hide had been practically feral and ruthless in of itself, and it was a system had just grown up in. Vathmos was accostumed to fighting with clanmates, for dominace and rights to food, and made a large effort to put herself towards the top in her former hyena tribe. They had spoken to eachother in their mother tongue and kept to their xenophobic society, only pushed back by stronger creatures. Even here she had a personal pecking order, delegated by strength and time. Vathmos felt that very few members were actually stronger than her, and had made a point to minimize interactions with them, and stay on nuetral or better terms with them.
She opened up her door, using the rope to pull down the knob. She stepped outside, and froze, ears flipping backward, tail up as her black, beady eyes met the raptor's blue. He was more feral than her, and was one of few that had earned the hyena's respect without doing anything. Maybe she felt a tinge of fear in her, under the predator's gaze, but she would never admit to it. She sniffed, feeling herself tense up. She took a breathe and stepped aside to let him into her home. At least, that's what she assumed the raptor wanted. She didn't know him and couldn't read him well enough to understand him. She couldn't show any weakness to him, either, there was a twitching fear that he would attack her in the face of vulnerability. She wasn't even going to attempt to speak to him- she didn't know if he could understand her.
Vathmos home was not fancy in the slightest. There were trails of blood soaked into the wood from where she dragged deer and boar inside and ate their corpses in the following days until there was nothing left. The newest carcass, towards the center of the room, was a half-eaten cow. She had dragged it here all the way from the farm. It had probably died from a sickness of some kind, but Vathmos' organs were too resilient to notice.
There was a pile of bones in the left corner, mostly licked clean, but flies buzzed around it and picked at whatever Vathmos failed to eat off them. They needed to sit out in the sun at some point to bleach, but she had decided to do so later. On the opposite side, was collected pelts, haphazardly ripped from their owners to make a bed.
She opened up her door, using the rope to pull down the knob. She stepped outside, and froze, ears flipping backward, tail up as her black, beady eyes met the raptor's blue. He was more feral than her, and was one of few that had earned the hyena's respect without doing anything. Maybe she felt a tinge of fear in her, under the predator's gaze, but she would never admit to it. She sniffed, feeling herself tense up. She took a breathe and stepped aside to let him into her home. At least, that's what she assumed the raptor wanted. She didn't know him and couldn't read him well enough to understand him. She couldn't show any weakness to him, either, there was a twitching fear that he would attack her in the face of vulnerability. She wasn't even going to attempt to speak to him- she didn't know if he could understand her.
Vathmos home was not fancy in the slightest. There were trails of blood soaked into the wood from where she dragged deer and boar inside and ate their corpses in the following days until there was nothing left. The newest carcass, towards the center of the room, was a half-eaten cow. She had dragged it here all the way from the farm. It had probably died from a sickness of some kind, but Vathmos' organs were too resilient to notice.
There was a pile of bones in the left corner, mostly licked clean, but flies buzzed around it and picked at whatever Vathmos failed to eat off them. They needed to sit out in the sun at some point to bleach, but she had decided to do so later. On the opposite side, was collected pelts, haphazardly ripped from their owners to make a bed.
━ [b]MY SKIN IS A STORY┆LONELY. CLINGY. HATEFUL. ━
Re: brain dead . vathmos - AMUNET - 08-22-2019
— Ament had only known the way of savagery ; no matter mother's constant care , too dotting to instill a respect for those with sense . In turn his sisters grew to despise them , the sensible creatures who bound together in clans and made no sense : amen , he were only curious , it is one of the few things that keep him from lashing out truly - truly harming another within these borders without reason . He never hated these curiosities , these clan-members that he lived alongside ; as he grew , his temper waned quicker , he was more weary around them ( just because they were not like him does not mean they could not hurt him ; Lygari had proved that )
But there was one ; one who toed the line of savage and sense , and ament felt curious ; and that , was a dangerous thing indeed .
Wraith and rot
Vathmos Torvus
beady eyes catch blue from the edges of a den ; but they do not take their eyes off ; good . It is a start , a flicker of something ; appreciation in the venadi's eyes as he steps closer , not entering the den , but watching the other ; waiting them out . a predator is patient for his prey ; and he can be nothing but patient with his own slow static infused head .
( this is not a game , a voice filled with static : presence the promise of pain )
he does not turn his gaze away , but he does shift - in the silence ament turns around , taking a few steps back himself ; an invitation to follow - and by ament's own stare ; a challenge to comply or be the first to admit to the fear thrumming through both of them : fear of rejection ? of violence ; creatures aking to wraith snap in instants , only the smallest thing will set them off ; both are akin . Both touched by wraith , anger , static . to admit weakness is to admit weakness ; ament will not allow it ; not in himself and not in another Torvus .
But there was one ; one who toed the line of savage and sense , and ament felt curious ; and that , was a dangerous thing indeed .
Wraith and rot
Vathmos Torvus
beady eyes catch blue from the edges of a den ; but they do not take their eyes off ; good . It is a start , a flicker of something ; appreciation in the venadi's eyes as he steps closer , not entering the den , but watching the other ; waiting them out . a predator is patient for his prey ; and he can be nothing but patient with his own slow static infused head .
( this is not a game , a voice filled with static : presence the promise of pain )
he does not turn his gaze away , but he does shift - in the silence ament turns around , taking a few steps back himself ; an invitation to follow - and by ament's own stare ; a challenge to comply or be the first to admit to the fear thrumming through both of them : fear of rejection ? of violence ; creatures aking to wraith snap in instants , only the smallest thing will set them off ; both are akin . Both touched by wraith , anger , static . to admit weakness is to admit weakness ; ament will not allow it ; not in himself and not in another Torvus .
Re: brain dead . vathmos - Vathmos - 08-25-2019
// this reply is going to be a lot shorter and im sorry
Vathmos' head bobbed as if she were trying to get a better look and investigate the raptor. She was cautious, the slightest of hint of fear on her- but she tried to bury it deep down. She could not show fear to her fellow savage beast- only neutrality or strength. She didn't want anything to do with Ament. She found him to be one of the few creatures that could actually pose a threat to her, so she didn't mind being below him in the pecking order.
She watched him carefully as he approached, taking steps back as needed, maybe one or two. He shifted and turned, and Vathmos took a moment to decipher his meaning and wanted he wanted. He wanted her to follow? Okay. She wondered what for. To take her out back and kill her in the woods? She hoped not. She wondered if she would even be able to fend him off to run back to the rest of the clan. She nodded and took a few steps forward to begin following after him.
Vathmos' head bobbed as if she were trying to get a better look and investigate the raptor. She was cautious, the slightest of hint of fear on her- but she tried to bury it deep down. She could not show fear to her fellow savage beast- only neutrality or strength. She didn't want anything to do with Ament. She found him to be one of the few creatures that could actually pose a threat to her, so she didn't mind being below him in the pecking order.
She watched him carefully as he approached, taking steps back as needed, maybe one or two. He shifted and turned, and Vathmos took a moment to decipher his meaning and wanted he wanted. He wanted her to follow? Okay. She wondered what for. To take her out back and kill her in the woods? She hoped not. She wondered if she would even be able to fend him off to run back to the rest of the clan. She nodded and took a few steps forward to begin following after him.
━ [b]MY SKIN IS A STORY┆LONELY. CLINGY. HATEFUL. ━