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diane young - prompt - Printable Version

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diane young - prompt - selby roux ! - 03-14-2020

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]It was not often that the sawbones found himself in the junkyard. His reasons for being there were very limited, especially considering what he had found the last time he entered. Selby could still picture the cloud of crows flying away from his sister’s body as Crow approached. To think of it sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. Still, it was best to take care of one’s traumas while they were still fresh. Letting it stew was good for no one. So after one particularly vivid nightmare, he picked himself up and resolved to explore the area.

It did not take long to reach the gates. He paused at them, feeling the anxiety and dread weigh his limbs down like lead. A hard lump of some strong emotion settled in his throat. Come on, Selby. It’s not that bad. There’s nothing dangerous in there. He repeated this comforting mantra to himself, eventually finding the courage to swallow his fears and drag himself inside.

The sight of numerous crows made him freeze in his tracks, but after studying them, the throng was nowhere near as thick as it had been after Pastel. These were just normal birds, here to pick at scraps. Had his sister been scraps? Scraps, scraps, scraps. What difference did it make? They all ended up in the same place. He moved onward.

As he scanned the various sections of junk, Selby found that there was not much of interest. After all, it was junk. Someone had deemed it too old or too messed up or too broken to be of use. He passed a two legged stool, a scattered and broken tea set, and an unraveled wicker basket before he found something familiar tangled up with scraps of cloth.

He had ditched the skateboard for a reason. The missing wheel made it impossible to be used, not to mention the tumultuous time it represented. Still, a sense of nostalgia drove him forward. Selby gripped the front of it with his teeth and used his paws to push the cloth away. Through this method, he was able to pull it free. Setting it down, he began to give it a good look. The board had not aged well, its plain black surface faded and odd-smelling from its days in the rain and sun. Another of its wheels was stuck in place, too rusted to turn. He sat in front of it in thought, wondering what he should do with it.

Re: diane young - prompt - wormwood. - 03-14-2020

☆ HUNG PICTURES OF PATRON SAINTS UP ON MY WALL TO REMIND ME THAT I AM A FOOL. TELL ME WHERE I CAME FROM, WHAT I WILL ALWAYS BE: JUST A SPOILED LITTLE KID WHO WENT TO CATHOLIC SCHOOL —
Aurum had been venturing to the junkyard more and more often as of late, mainly for the sake of his home. While he knew the grand majority of the things within the junkyard were... well, exactly that, junk, he also knew that there was sometimes some gold hidden within it as well. After all, he had gotten some decorations for the tavern from the junkyard – albeit after thoroughly washing them – and he thought that perhaps he could grab some furniture or little decorations now as well, given how his home was still a bit barren. There had been various little fixtures in place when he and Roy had first moved in, and a few things had been added with the unexpected arrival of Kaito, but given how there were going to be new members of the family added in fairly soon as well, Aurum wanted to make sure that their home was nice. Welcoming, warm, and homey as it should be. In stark contrast to how Aurum himself had been raised, with the cold streets and towering buildings of where the Pride had called home, unpleasant and distant to a cub that had just been trying to find his way.

The tigon had been silent as he slipped past the gates of the junkyard a little bit after Selby, unaware of the presence of the sawbones. One blue eye had scanned carefully over the items present, nose wrinkling at the faint scent that the place always carried. He didn't have as much trauma associated with the junkyard as Selby did, obviously, but the angel swore there was always a faint scent of death in the air, even months after Pastel's body had been discovered. He shook this off and continued walking, searching for any furniture or decorations that wasn't in too bad of a shape, only to pause when he caught sight of dark fur in the corner of his eye. Looking up, he was surprised to see Selby within the junkyard, his eyes focused downward on what looked to be a rather well used and beat up skateboard. Curiosity driving him forward, Aurum moved away from one of the piles of junk and over to a few paces away from Selby, saying softly as he sat, "Hey Selby... find something interesting in the junk?" He could see that glintnof recognition in Selby's eyes that made him think the other was acquainted with this particular piece of junk, but he didn't want to assume anything.

[div style="text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; text-shadow: 0px 0px 2px #722227; font-size: 24px;"][color=#c16f78]— AURUM
#psychosocial.