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and i was losing every night ⚘ intr(o) - aesior - 06-14-2022
A. OPHELES
✯ — SOME DAYS I CAN'T EVEN TRUST MYSELF
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There was a finality in things like these, just as there was finality in death. Some kind of fucked up fate that had him on the edges of death's door. Not that his master would come. A knew that, deep in his soul. His master had abandoned him. He was not doing his job well enough. He was a disgrace to all grims. They all deserved to die, he would show them that he was the best among them, he had only been betrayed by his master was all. The others didn't deserve the beautiful deaths that he could deliver to them.
The day no longer mattered, nor did the bone-deep pain that dredged through his veins with every step. Everything in it hurt, the beast carried so much physical pain that it half wondered if it's master had intended for it to have a mortal body here and now. Each step was a different kind of pain, a different kind of rich agony that seeped through its pores. It enjoyed this, pain didn't stop it. It didn't know if it liked the pain or if it kept the beast from a rampage, like a dog on a leash. But when did the leash run out? When did the hand that fed it get bit?
It knew its body was covered in multiple injuries, as it knew that some of the injuries were running the risk of going bad, but it couldn't find it within itself. He didn't want to fight for control again. He didn't want to fight the beast to look after his own body. It was a parasite when it drove him to lose control. It was a monster and he hated it.
Heavy paws brought the beast of silvers and pitch through trees, following a prey path, the american lion body covered in many wounds, a leg walked on awkwardly with low growls escaping it. It was present, it was awake, it hated him. It could feel him trying to press it back but it was angry and the kitsune hadn't been enough. It would never be enough until the one who was the cause of its anger was dead. It couldn't kill him, he was gone. There was no trail to hunt anymore. Now it wandered, taking out its unending anger on the innocent. Was it a justice? It was a way to release its fury. It was 'healthy' to do.
Coming to a halt now, the beast would look up at the tall trees and the lines of cord it could make out. 'Ziplines' he so helpfully provided, making it curl its lip. A child had almost been hurt badly because of these, where it's first home was. It didn't like them so much anymore despite never having gone on any. Limping forward, the great beast would settle in the shade of a tree, settling to groom its paws, ears swiveling for those around it. It wouldn't be caught off guard if it could do anything
non described injuries atm but the major wounds are a head injury and a broken foreleg //
attempting to write him in a different style, it may change ///
Mentally stable/aware of self - he/him & unstable/loss of sanity - it/its ////
The day no longer mattered, nor did the bone-deep pain that dredged through his veins with every step. Everything in it hurt, the beast carried so much physical pain that it half wondered if it's master had intended for it to have a mortal body here and now. Each step was a different kind of pain, a different kind of rich agony that seeped through its pores. It enjoyed this, pain didn't stop it. It didn't know if it liked the pain or if it kept the beast from a rampage, like a dog on a leash. But when did the leash run out? When did the hand that fed it get bit?
It knew its body was covered in multiple injuries, as it knew that some of the injuries were running the risk of going bad, but it couldn't find it within itself. He didn't want to fight for control again. He didn't want to fight the beast to look after his own body. It was a parasite when it drove him to lose control. It was a monster and he hated it.
Heavy paws brought the beast of silvers and pitch through trees, following a prey path, the american lion body covered in many wounds, a leg walked on awkwardly with low growls escaping it. It was present, it was awake, it hated him. It could feel him trying to press it back but it was angry and the kitsune hadn't been enough. It would never be enough until the one who was the cause of its anger was dead. It couldn't kill him, he was gone. There was no trail to hunt anymore. Now it wandered, taking out its unending anger on the innocent. Was it a justice? It was a way to release its fury. It was 'healthy' to do.
Coming to a halt now, the beast would look up at the tall trees and the lines of cord it could make out. 'Ziplines' he so helpfully provided, making it curl its lip. A child had almost been hurt badly because of these, where it's first home was. It didn't like them so much anymore despite never having gone on any. Limping forward, the great beast would settle in the shade of a tree, settling to groom its paws, ears swiveling for those around it. It wouldn't be caught off guard if it could do anything
non described injuries atm but the major wounds are a head injury and a broken foreleg //
attempting to write him in a different style, it may change ///
Mentally stable/aware of self - he/him & unstable/loss of sanity - it/its ////
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Re: and i was losing every night ⚘ intr(o) - The Tombs - 06-24-2022
He knew how it felt to not be good enough.
If he was a man worthy of anything, much of his family's fate could have been avoided. He could have kept a closer eye on his young siblings, looked out for his aging parents before they succumbed to illness and sheer insanity. He could have been their guard, their loyal sentinel forever on watch until they were capable of truly keeping themselves safe. But he was not this man. He was a man worthy of nothing. More beast than man. Monster.
The rage that had accumulated within him since these godforsaken incidents was directed towards no one in particular other than himself, eating him from the inside as though he were a fallen corpse consumed by pestering, scavenging insects and countless parasites that waited for the opportune moment to strike. He knew how it would affect others, too — he was a ticking time bomb, ready to burst at any given moment, but totally emotionless until then. Stone-cold. Nothing. Tick, tick, tick.
He didn't quite care, though. To him, this was all a fact of life. This would be his life for all eternity. And life stopped for no troubled person, no poor bastard sick or in pain, but he had the choice to do so.
It was this choice that Maximilian made upon his most recent patrol, when the stench of a stranger filled his nostrils, piquing his curiosity and prompting him to follow the trail. The scent brought him to a great tree, where an American lion lay grooming himself beneath the shade. His body was littered with injuries, some bleeding and some healing, and his leg was mangled in a grotesque, awkward position. Broken, Max realized even from his distance. Even with the lion's towering size, his injuries and current state of apparent weakness could make it easier for the wolf to just chase him off the Enclave's territory now. He had no idea what the lion's intentions were, good or bad. Or maybe nothin' at all? A pang of pity struck him, and he cursed himself silently for it. Perhaps the feline had nowhere to go, too injured to move from this very tree.
The sound of a snapping twig made his ears twitch, and he turned to face some Enclavian whose name he could not bother remembering staring at them both. "For fuck's sake, what are you gawkin' at?" the Alpha hissed, the bomb exploding within him already. "Go get Okami or some other Star to take a look at this guy, yeah?" Silently the Enclavian obeyed, trekking off to find someone capable of examining the stranger's injuries.
Maximilian remained with the feline, gingerly stepping closer and closer towards him so not as to alarm the other. He wasn't here to kill him or chase him off. He was, in fact, making the choice to stop for this man. "You're on the Enclave's borders," he announced out of habit, his muscles tensing as he paused before the feline, careful not to move a single inch closer in case he would get aggravated. He waited a moment to gauge the other's reaction before continuing. "You're hurt. I got someone comin' to look at you, if that's alright."
If he was a man worthy of anything, much of his family's fate could have been avoided. He could have kept a closer eye on his young siblings, looked out for his aging parents before they succumbed to illness and sheer insanity. He could have been their guard, their loyal sentinel forever on watch until they were capable of truly keeping themselves safe. But he was not this man. He was a man worthy of nothing. More beast than man. Monster.
The rage that had accumulated within him since these godforsaken incidents was directed towards no one in particular other than himself, eating him from the inside as though he were a fallen corpse consumed by pestering, scavenging insects and countless parasites that waited for the opportune moment to strike. He knew how it would affect others, too — he was a ticking time bomb, ready to burst at any given moment, but totally emotionless until then. Stone-cold. Nothing. Tick, tick, tick.
He didn't quite care, though. To him, this was all a fact of life. This would be his life for all eternity. And life stopped for no troubled person, no poor bastard sick or in pain, but he had the choice to do so.
It was this choice that Maximilian made upon his most recent patrol, when the stench of a stranger filled his nostrils, piquing his curiosity and prompting him to follow the trail. The scent brought him to a great tree, where an American lion lay grooming himself beneath the shade. His body was littered with injuries, some bleeding and some healing, and his leg was mangled in a grotesque, awkward position. Broken, Max realized even from his distance. Even with the lion's towering size, his injuries and current state of apparent weakness could make it easier for the wolf to just chase him off the Enclave's territory now. He had no idea what the lion's intentions were, good or bad. Or maybe nothin' at all? A pang of pity struck him, and he cursed himself silently for it. Perhaps the feline had nowhere to go, too injured to move from this very tree.
The sound of a snapping twig made his ears twitch, and he turned to face some Enclavian whose name he could not bother remembering staring at them both. "For fuck's sake, what are you gawkin' at?" the Alpha hissed, the bomb exploding within him already. "Go get Okami or some other Star to take a look at this guy, yeah?" Silently the Enclavian obeyed, trekking off to find someone capable of examining the stranger's injuries.
Maximilian remained with the feline, gingerly stepping closer and closer towards him so not as to alarm the other. He wasn't here to kill him or chase him off. He was, in fact, making the choice to stop for this man. "You're on the Enclave's borders," he announced out of habit, his muscles tensing as he paused before the feline, careful not to move a single inch closer in case he would get aggravated. He waited a moment to gauge the other's reaction before continuing. "You're hurt. I got someone comin' to look at you, if that's alright."
[glow=#008040,2,300]where is my mind?[/glow] — ☽
Re: and i was losing every night ⚘ intr(o) - aesior - 07-05-2022
A. OPHELES
✯ — SOME DAYS I CAN'T EVEN TRUST MYSELF
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the sound of another's approach raised the beast of death, silver eyes finding maximilian and locking onto the unfamiliar frame, a low growl of a warning escaping from it. it hated canines and all they stood for. it had been hurt, no, he had been hurt by a canid in the past and that past pain embittered the beast against every kind of canine it came across. a's gaze flickered as it's lips lowered and resumed a look of neutrality, forced to by the pressing of aesior within it's mind. they were one and the same, but the beast caused severe disassociation for the grim, a battle he didn't want to fight. it wouldn't be so bad to let the monster take control, when nobody he cared about was near.
muscles throbbing as it turned it's body some to stare at max a bit more, a faltering deep voice escaping it, "Alright.", was all it managed, cringing at the sound of it's own voice, paw raising to touch the horrible open injuries on it's mouth and muzzle, left there by a fit of insanity where it had done everything to escape it's mortal body. speaking hurt these wounds, leaving the beast in a more ire state, in pain and aggressive. it wanted nothing to do with the mortals, he didn't want to get attached again. he didn't want to cause more pain when he inevitably left. he didn't want to see his son's fear of him again. there was no place for him or it to go home, not anymore, or so he believed. the beast couldn't care less, it had always done well on it's own.
there was no need to follow orders as it was, it had no owner and it's own master had forsaken it. it was on it's own like it was so very long ago. there was a mess it couldn't fix and didn't want to fix, even if he did. perhaps there was some regret in the beast made of rage and stubborn frustration. it was no guardian, it could only scare and chase off those it loved, it couldn't keep anyone near. he was much the same, they together had lost everything that was important, their children, husband, and master. what much was left for the beast aside from wandering? death was not something that would come for it, for death was their master.
keeping a wary eye to max, the beast would resume it's quiet grooming of it's paws and claws, leaving the broken foreleg alone, breath puffing out each time it moved, grooming the wounds that ached, giving short snarls of pain, ears laid back against it's skull. gods, this hurt, but it knew it had to carry on. there was no reprieve for the damned.
muscles throbbing as it turned it's body some to stare at max a bit more, a faltering deep voice escaping it, "Alright.", was all it managed, cringing at the sound of it's own voice, paw raising to touch the horrible open injuries on it's mouth and muzzle, left there by a fit of insanity where it had done everything to escape it's mortal body. speaking hurt these wounds, leaving the beast in a more ire state, in pain and aggressive. it wanted nothing to do with the mortals, he didn't want to get attached again. he didn't want to cause more pain when he inevitably left. he didn't want to see his son's fear of him again. there was no place for him or it to go home, not anymore, or so he believed. the beast couldn't care less, it had always done well on it's own.
there was no need to follow orders as it was, it had no owner and it's own master had forsaken it. it was on it's own like it was so very long ago. there was a mess it couldn't fix and didn't want to fix, even if he did. perhaps there was some regret in the beast made of rage and stubborn frustration. it was no guardian, it could only scare and chase off those it loved, it couldn't keep anyone near. he was much the same, they together had lost everything that was important, their children, husband, and master. what much was left for the beast aside from wandering? death was not something that would come for it, for death was their master.
keeping a wary eye to max, the beast would resume it's quiet grooming of it's paws and claws, leaving the broken foreleg alone, breath puffing out each time it moved, grooming the wounds that ached, giving short snarls of pain, ears laid back against it's skull. gods, this hurt, but it knew it had to carry on. there was no reprieve for the damned.
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