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+--- Thread: i hope you got some beds around // o (/showthread.php?tid=3125)
i hope you got some beds around // o - axiom - 07-13-2018
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She felt sticky, as though days' worth of sweat and tears stuck to every inch of her skin. Opening her eyes, she found herself confused as the black void gave way to yet another black void. Rubbing each of her three eyes, one at a time with her left hand, she slowly rose to a seated position using her other hand and limbs for support. Her bones popped with every movement, especially her back; if she heard the sound from another person, she might've gotten excited that someone damaged their vertebrae. As it was, she felt stiff down to her bones.
She remembered a mix of different sensations and memories; some of it felt uniquely placed in time, others as though it happened anywhere from years to eons ago. Recently, she remembered sensation after sensation of Latin chants intermingled with the touch of molten candle wax mixed into blood - what a uniquely sticky concoction that was, too. And she also knew that she lived within the cracks of space itself, feasting time and again on suffering born from the human condition. How fat the pickings were these days!
By now, her three eyes adjusted to the dark; as she looked around, so did her recent memories. With a chalk-etched pentagram below her feet and mutated animal sacrifices at each point, she certainly remembered participating. Swiping her tongue across her teeth, she wrinkled her nose as she remembered eating her own uterus - she hated the stale taste of blood, and immediately felt a lurching desire to replace it with fresh stuff. But, as she looked around, she saw nothing but rows upon rows of alcohol and pickled food. A sneer etched itself across her expression as she felt annoyance at those mortals; they dared to yank her from the fabric between realities, and they do not even prepare a sufficient first meal for their Frankenstein human-demon creation.
Dried blood crusted on her four horns, her fingernails picking at the scabs. She knew this bunker intimately well; she knew of every depraved act that went on in this place, but she did not know how to escape from inside. Indeed, as she studied and inquisitively poked her slender body, she supposed there wasn't a way out - it hadn't been designed for that purpose, with no handle on the inside and the door too wide for the opening. A one-way ticket to living comfortably in nuclear winter, at least until the supplies ran out. Until the cult killed the inhabitants and re-purposed it for their depraved uses.
She stood up, reaching her arms above her head and stretching like a cat. Well, she tried not to hold too much animosity towards those lunatics. After all, their Satanic ritual managed to work - quite a feat, given the high failure rate - and cause her to exist, a demon infused human... or whatever the kids called them, these days. Still, she found herself pissed that they didn't get a meal ready for her, didn't wait for her to wake up and then shower her with lavish gifts and more hedonistic wonders. Curiously turning her attention to the sacrifices - because, really, what worthy sacrifices for this ritual remained in this hellish world? - she grabbed one and heaved it up.
The purified gaze of a week-old corpse greeted her, free of insects and untouched thanks to the complete isolation of the bunker. "Ah, that explains that question," she mumbled, remembering that the five Satanists did sit on each corner for the ritual. Though she doubted they intended to end up dead, she appreciated their unwilling sacrifice nonetheless.
She remembered a mix of different sensations and memories; some of it felt uniquely placed in time, others as though it happened anywhere from years to eons ago. Recently, she remembered sensation after sensation of Latin chants intermingled with the touch of molten candle wax mixed into blood - what a uniquely sticky concoction that was, too. And she also knew that she lived within the cracks of space itself, feasting time and again on suffering born from the human condition. How fat the pickings were these days!
By now, her three eyes adjusted to the dark; as she looked around, so did her recent memories. With a chalk-etched pentagram below her feet and mutated animal sacrifices at each point, she certainly remembered participating. Swiping her tongue across her teeth, she wrinkled her nose as she remembered eating her own uterus - she hated the stale taste of blood, and immediately felt a lurching desire to replace it with fresh stuff. But, as she looked around, she saw nothing but rows upon rows of alcohol and pickled food. A sneer etched itself across her expression as she felt annoyance at those mortals; they dared to yank her from the fabric between realities, and they do not even prepare a sufficient first meal for their Frankenstein human-demon creation.
Dried blood crusted on her four horns, her fingernails picking at the scabs. She knew this bunker intimately well; she knew of every depraved act that went on in this place, but she did not know how to escape from inside. Indeed, as she studied and inquisitively poked her slender body, she supposed there wasn't a way out - it hadn't been designed for that purpose, with no handle on the inside and the door too wide for the opening. A one-way ticket to living comfortably in nuclear winter, at least until the supplies ran out. Until the cult killed the inhabitants and re-purposed it for their depraved uses.
She stood up, reaching her arms above her head and stretching like a cat. Well, she tried not to hold too much animosity towards those lunatics. After all, their Satanic ritual managed to work - quite a feat, given the high failure rate - and cause her to exist, a demon infused human... or whatever the kids called them, these days. Still, she found herself pissed that they didn't get a meal ready for her, didn't wait for her to wake up and then shower her with lavish gifts and more hedonistic wonders. Curiously turning her attention to the sacrifices - because, really, what worthy sacrifices for this ritual remained in this hellish world? - she grabbed one and heaved it up.
The purified gaze of a week-old corpse greeted her, free of insects and untouched thanks to the complete isolation of the bunker. "Ah, that explains that question," she mumbled, remembering that the five Satanists did sit on each corner for the ritual. Though she doubted they intended to end up dead, she appreciated their unwilling sacrifice nonetheless.
Re: i hope you got some beds around // o - axiom - 07-18-2018
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> power boop, now open to anyone to reply to !!
Re: i hope you got some beds around // o - goodsprings - 07-20-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"] the protective walls surrounding blackfall was going to take some time to find... comforting. valor, for the most part, felt severely closed in. he much preferred the open wasteland where he could see his enemies coming onward from afar. where he knew what the dangers were and that everyone on the outside was predictably a foe. it was much more black and white in the wilds.
here it was harder to read people. the mutants living beside him should have activated some sort of camaraderie, seeing as they were often shunned by those who were pristine from the radiation. malkyn and finn had taught him different, though. there was only the pack. they would always watch his back. always be there to protect him and he would do the same for them. had valor been younger when they arrived he might have still had that doubt that anyone could be out to kill him, but the maturity that came with surviving out in the wastes had smothered any of that away.
the young boy was out wandering blackfalls territory with roseus flying overhead, the redtailed hawk keeping watch for any dangers he failed to sense from afar. he had been terribly restless since arriving here. it was much to adjust to, especially with cain. he wasn't pack. he wasn't one of them yet his three guardians had been friendly with him. warm and welcoming. valor didn't know when would be appropriate to ask finn about their history with cain, since most of their time was spent at the mans hip, but he felt more at ease... away from him.
maybe he just didn't adjust well to change.
his thoughts were torn away when an odd smell crept up to his nose. his lip curled at the smell of rot, and his heartbeat began to grow rapidly. he could feel his pulse in his fingertips as the smell triggered something in him. his legs began to move on their own, his eye's stone as his focus remained on finding the source.
hunt. hunt.
the primal instinct urged at his brain, and in his reckless searching his tripped over a slab of concrete, his palms hitting the surface. it was strongest underneath it.
he circled the slab twice, three times, frustrated that all he saw was overgrown vines and moss surrounding it. his feathered companion swooped down to perch upon his shoulder, and rubbed her beak against his cheek before hopping down below and steadily moving down the small hill on the other side. like a dog valor followed, his fists clenched and jaw tight until he saw what roseus was leading him to. the entrance.
he slowly approached it, hand shaking as it reached for the heavy metal door, fingers grasping the handle and turning it until it budged. the rusted hinges groaned as he dragged it toward him, and the smell of the rotten decay hit him head on.
there, he saw domek. there, he was frozen in place. his eye's darting from one detail to another. the carcasses. the chalk pentagram. all but avoiding the fact there was a naked woman sitting right in the center of the bunker. he quickly shook his head and covered his eyes. "uhm, you're naked. i don't think i'm allowed to look at naked people so- uh- i can leave... if you want?" what was he saying?
something was still drawing him toward inside the bunker and he wanted to fight against it. his humanity for the moment overcoming his instinct. the last thing finn and malkyn needed to know was that he was hanging around naked women in bunkers.