FELIKS — SNOWBOUND

1. Loyalty: here, 633 words
2. Hurt: here, 514 words
3. Snow: here, 531 words
4. Belief: wip
5. Fear: here, 529 words
6. Jealousy
7. Memories
8. Alone
9. Change
10. Love
11. Sweet
12. Strength
13. Stars
14. Dark
15. Dream
16. Cold
17. Blood
18. Discovery
19. Burning
20. Distance
21. Label
22. Boundaries
23. Unique
24. Winter
25. Hatred
26. Lead
27. Frost
28. Answers
29. Fallen
30. Restart
31. Endings

© MADI

FELIKS — SNOWBOUND

The griffon meandered through the camp, between the couples and friends bunched together to spite the isolating cold, settling by himself. Wide eyes weren't blinking, tail wasn't lashing despite the mild irritation he felt at the sight, and paws hardly shuffled around even if it was his second favourite habit. Their masks were easy enough to wear, smiles for days and petty cries of 'I love you' and 'We'll always be friends', most were content with being force fed those lies if it meant having a easier life just for a little bit, but Feliks had grown past such obsequious behaviour. He'd always been an animal who's own loyalty had been a constant question, even when he was still young and naive. For a time, it appeared as if the miraculous animal was too selfish to hold down a longterm friendship (and such air-headed hedonism had caused various former betrayals), but now... it looked like he'd stopped caring to try completely. His eyes were always so intense, always so expressive, however as soon as loyalty was mentioned, they dimmed as if there was a blackout.

It wasn't like it was entirely his fault that he was void of all loyalty. Once upon a time he had been a faithful leader to a small-name group, when he had stepped down due to severe injuries they had all turned their backs on him. Redacted from their history books, exiled, all to appease political enemies that the male had made due to his uncanny bluntness. One of those enemies had pretended to love him as well... only to spill the beans of their treachery when he'd already planned to spend the rest of his life with them. Nine months down the drain, a legacy ruined, it was understandable for the griffon to not be keen to stick to an ideal after that. So he looked back to them friends and couples scornfully, and finally his talons dug into the ground. How could they be content pretending to be loyal? How could they be content pretending to care for one another? His stomach growled with a sickening feeling, a dark cloud passing over his face once the realisation kicked in that they'd never change. They wanted to live simply, he couldn't interfere in that no matter how hard he tried.

When thinking of the Snowbound, the male felt nothing. No inch of devotion trickled in his veins, and he was perfectly content with that. Groups always changed, creatures always changed, there was no difference when looking past the surface. It look one bad day for a good leader to turn bad and as soon as that happened it was bye bye to a group he may have been faithful to. Why would Feliks put himself in a situation where he'd be hurt again? Life wasn't about devoting yourself to a lost cause, or seeing if you could lead a group which would ultimately die out at some point in the future, it was about survival and always had been. Such goals made him no better than those who he criticised for back-stabbing, but as least Feliks was self-aware, and would try to avoid leading others on for fear that his grey morality would darken should he not be cautious of who he was hurting. There were things that he had done that he couldn't live with himself for doing, scarring his own face as punishment for his selfish actions, and going down a path where he thought that lashing out at children was ok would devoid him of more than just loyalty.

No loyalty to a cause, no loyalty to individuals, barely any loyalty to himself and his ideas, it was a cruel world to live in when trust was so nullified by a bad life.

© MADI

FELIKS — SNOWBOUND

He didn't like to be a broken record, to be like a society that repeated their problems over and over again because they refused to move on was a fate worse than death. There were times though when a record could not be cleaned, and was stuck in a forever pit of damage. They were the records you'd see in shop windows, shiny and damaged back concealed by vibrant lies of 'Best of 80's' and 'Just Dance' and other such titles. No one would ever buy them, because secondhand things weren't appreciated, but for just a split second someone in the world would appreciate their imperfect art. Records were inanimate objects however, they could not feel happiness or sadness or pain and they had no beholder's eye to give them a sense of self worth. Sometimes, Feliks wished he had that simple of a personality, where he could not be hurt by vicious words or tangled claws. Truthfully, though he may've acted like the biggest asshole on the face of God's green earth, he knew pain more than anyone else did, he was sure of it.

The pain of betrayal was an obvious one, it was a song that echoed throughout his life, tormenting him for relying on others for survival. But, perhaps one a bit more blunt to the naked eye was the physical pain that the male had endured. When looking at the face, rarely shy and effeminate anymore, if one could look past an overbearing smirk and eyes that flashed with malice, there was a scar. From ear tuft to lower beak it stood out like a sore thumb, a reddish mark against a messy flurry of golds and yellows. Though not too obvious about its origins, if asked, Feliks could not be secretive - he'd done it to himself. Emotions had become too much for him, angry voices and hisses had caused him to have an outburst of woe by himself and digging a sharp object straight down his face seemed to be the only way to control his sobs. It had been self-inflicted punishment, perhaps not for the right reasons - he'd just delievered vigilante justice to his rugged appearance for being so weak as to listen to what others told him.

Another time where he'd been hurt physically was in his leg, an everlasting blight on the aging griffon's good health. Being savagely mauled, the attacker had gone after his hind knee, impaling it with no other reason than to hear the screams of agony. Even settled by himself within Snowbound territory the male remembered that day, paws shaking with apprehension as he swore he heard his own blood-curdling screams once more. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Feliks moved his talons around, gazing down nervously at a mound of poppy seeds he'd stolen. The biggest pain of all though? Needing opiates to function, those other times of hurt had been in the past. Addiction, it felt like a past, present and future problem and an answer to vexing problems with his condition. Bad times shouldn't last forever, should they?

© MADI

FELIKS — SNOWBOUND

Snow wasn't that special to Feliks. Born in Northeastern Europe close to unforgiving borders, by the time the male's eyes had developed he had already been engulfed with visions of pearly white flakes falling against the ground. There were often times that he'd sit out near the entrance of his den, underneath that hollowed out trunk in a fox-sized hole watching the snow trickle down. One time he had stuck his nose out of the den, and a bitter little chill had tickled the tip of his nostril. He'd sneezed, woken up his sisters and didn't hear the end of the bitchiness for months. Mama, Feliks is too loud the one had cried. Mama, tell him off for leaving the den the other cooed like a spoiled aristocrat, and though their sabotage hadn't been appreciated at the time, Feliks still missed them. He'd never got to say goodbye, were they even alive today? The griffon wished he knew some days, as to prevent another one of life's questions grating at his overactive mind.

As his leathery feet crushed the flush underneath him, nostalgia of those easier times refused to enter his mind. It had been so long, Feliks' sentiment had all but disappeared alongside his old life. Memories of old are toxic, he told himself. Dad wasn't happy with you being flamboyant, you shouldn't ever dream of going back there. Reflective underneath layers of snark and attitude, flashbacks of the times when he was stuck in his first winter did not arrive. Their were brief times when looking down at the alabaster ground when he was reminded of his first stint as leader of a pack, but it did nothing to quell the growing irritation within him at the weather that harassed his strained bones. "All of you are traitors... Fucking traitors... Fucking traitors..." his strung out the curses, one after another as his talons sunk further into the earth. He'd picked Snowbound as residence as a way to remind himself of a time where he hadn't been ostracized by those he cared about, but he'd seen that same scorn at his joining.

Snow was bad news, it seemed. Cryophobia was not an option in the griffin's mind, there were more important things to be terrified of than the cold, but his experiences certainly left him wary of such things every now and again. Every time he limped in the rough winter conditions, he was reminded of a time in winter when he was savagely attacked. When seeing a lovey dovey couple, he was reminded of a time where he had his heart shattered into a million pieces tenfold. Winter seemed to truly be a bitch to the male, but he wasn't shallow enough to blame the season for all of his misgivings. After all, he'd much rather endure bad nostalgia than be forced to walk an eternity in the smoldering desert heat - now that would be too much pain to handle. Ear tufts flickering as the wings started to pick up, Feliks gave a quick turn of his head before trotting off, clearly wanting to get some shelter before the snow picked up a little too much for his liking.

© MADI

FELIKS — SNOWBOUND

(this prompt is a wip and will be completed by 17/08)

© MADI

FELIKS — SNOWBOUND

Feliks had quite a few fears, though some of them were a little more unorthodox than others. His first fear was spurred on after being tortured. Being powerless to help himself as he was smacked about like a whelp had left the male with some everlasting security issues, triggered on a surface level when faced with something as simple as restraints. The griffon was a free spirit, feeling free to go wherever he pleased and do whatever he liked were things that kept him sane in the face of survival and any of them being compromised was like being being stabbed by a million needles. Unsurprisingly, he kept it to himself, quietly moving away from scenes when he felt uncomfortable with chains and leashes or growing increasingly snappier from stress. It wasn't the ill-intended spite that the male was known for spewing out of a talkative mouth but rather a mask to cover up for his heart. When it felt like it was bursting out of his chest, when he felt like he was suffocating and invisible walls were crushing up against his shoulders... there was no way Feliks could behave normally.

Plenty of times he'd been subject to this horrible fear, his response was always similar if he found himself as the one within the oppression. Begging, he did a lot of begging. Pride was an important part of the male's character but he would not sit around waiting for death if it meant keeping his head held high. There would always be time for revenge and shit talking after he'd gotten out of his situation, with the feeling of little ants crawling up his skin and the horrendous feeling that he was about to die clouding over his mind, it wasn't exactly like Feliks had the right frame of mind to act like his normal self in situations like that. Thankfully other fears weren't so debilitating, and whilst they weren't so entertaining to the hybrid himself, others tended to find dry amusement in his antics whenever he encountered another fear. Like a young girl seeing a bug in the bathroom, he tended to over-exaggerate and demand for the thing to be killed... but what did he fear that was animated?

Once upon time, he'd been fearful of both strangers and penguins, but nowadays his main beef with another species came with porcupines. Having once stuck his head in the nest of a porcupine, the eagle-headed beast had been presented with a face full of quills as a reward for his accidental foolhardiness (he'd thought it was a rabbit's den... someone didn't learn from Longtail). Nowadays the creatures brought bitterness to the mythological creature's emotions and sent him into a blind fury. The other animal, a little more common, were snakes. Not fearing any other reptie, not even basilisks, the male's discomfort around the smaller reptile was certainly an oddity. Being so used to colder environments, he probably just wasn't used to them, and being bit by a venomous one sometime before joining Snowbound certainly didn't help his opinion. At least he wasn't scared of strangers anymore, else he'd never have the confidence to join a clan again...

© MADI