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+---- Thread: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN (/showthread.php?tid=6456)
WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - GABRIEL - 09-25-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]It tried to run.
It weaved through the trees that lined the southern borders of the territory, heartbeat panicked and calling to him, but he did not rush. He did not need to, a silent shadow with no need to skirt around the trees when he could simply walk through them, waiting for the inevitable moment that his prey made a fatal mistake. And it did, not long after, shoulder catching the side of a tree and sending it sprawling across the dirt, panting thunderous in his ears. In the fraction of a second, he appeared beside the scrambling body, a broad paw pinning it as dispassionate, inky eyes drank in the desperate squirming. It was pathetic.
"Please, I-I'll give you anything!" Begging. He cocked his head to the side, burn-blackened wings unfurling forward to create a canopy of their own, and in the new darkness, he could see expanded pupils, the rise and fall of a tempting throat.
Bastilleprisoner was his primary target, but this was a sowing of seeds before harvesting. He was patient, and his handler gave no time limits.
He lowered his muzzle to the side of the canine's head, inhaling the throes of terror thrumming beneath the skin he brushed. A moment later and he was tasting it, blood spilling across his tongue sweet and thick. Hunger brayed in his veins, and he tore through flesh, devouring what was within reach until purpose reared its head. He pulled away, folding pinioned wings behind him, tongue sweeping across his mouth to catch remnants of his partial meal.
He disappeared, and appeared after another moment, dropping a member of The Pitt at the corpse. The lion struggled, but it was a smaller, weak thing, suitable only for its jaws that would approximate his own bite size. He shoved a maned head into the corpse's wounds, and as it struggled to breathe, his own skull momentarily shifted into that of a wolf like the body, teeth closing around a leg and breaking bone.
It was crippled, and he released it, stepping back to admire his work. A fight, between a Pitt member and one of The Ascendants, who died, but not before delivering a blow to its opponent. For the first time, his expression shifted, fangs bared in a red-stained sneer. A moment later, and The Reaper was gone.
//so this is NotGabe's first appearance
naturally there's no scent of him around, and any pawprints are the size of the lion's
[align=right][i]——INFO
Re: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - DANNY - 09-25-2018
[div style="borderwidth; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"] A shift in the world and the last breath of an individual before becoming a spirit had attracted the child of shadows to the scene. The pull so strong that the newly dead soul caused unease. They weren’t supposed to be dead yet they were. Small form emerged behind a tree’s shadow, nostrils flaring at the sickly stench of death and the coppery tang of blood in the air, fear and anxiety mixing in the air. A low rumble vibrating in his throat as clear eyes focused on the crippled lion then shifted to the deceased Ascendant, body still while mind went blank at the scene.
Why?
A stranger not from here with evidence to show them as the sole culprit and no one else. Shaky breaths left the kitten as he stepped back, back, back. Repulsion gripping his stomach before twisting into dark fury. This couldn't be let go. They couldn’t live. Jaws parted as a shriek ripped through a tightened throat, loud and eerie and increasing in volume as paws pushed him forward towards the supposed killer.
[align=center]( BLOOD FOR BLOOD. )
Why?
A stranger not from here with evidence to show them as the sole culprit and no one else. Shaky breaths left the kitten as he stepped back, back, back. Repulsion gripping his stomach before twisting into dark fury. This couldn't be let go. They couldn’t live. Jaws parted as a shriek ripped through a tightened throat, loud and eerie and increasing in volume as paws pushed him forward towards the supposed killer.
[align=center]( BLOOD FOR BLOOD. )
Breaths ragged and choppy while each step closer to the unfortunate creature to face his wrath, shadows writhing and thrashing wildly as small form stretched and expanded into a larger, more menacing figure to crash into the lion. The shocked yowl and screams from the Pittian fell on deaf ears as multiple eyes of the shadowhound glared down at their prey.
( NO MERCY. )
A soul not theirs to take and it’s only fair. IT’S ONLY FAIR. Sharp, claw-like paws slashed at the lion’s side with a deep, guttural cry, drowning out the male’s own howls of fear. Owns sides twitching and heaving as the massive shadow beast gripped the struggling lion, numb to the vicious clawing at his legs and chest, while crushing him into the ground. Pushing, pushing pushing until bones cracked and splintered from the weight of the being, shadows quivering and jerking along Danny’s spine, jaws parting to release another ear-piercing scream as words bursted into the air.
[b]"May God have mercy on your [color=black]soul." The growling hiss of a contorted voice pierced the terror laced air
A sickening crunch and warbled choked entered the air as powerful jaws broke the lion’s skull and continued to grind then until crimson dripping from the sides of said jaws, bone and brain mush inside a mouth hungering for twisted justice. Snap of the jaws and the decapitated body slumped back but he wasn’t done– [i]no. Relentless anger tugged at him as the shadows screamed at him to keep going. They didn’t deserve a burial and he’d ensure it wouldn’t happened. Feet smashed, sliced, and pulverized the body to the point of a giant red smear of blood with flecks of intestines to remains.
Soft and slow breaths came now, head tilting down to the canine’s corpse and stared before resting on his haunches, muzzle tenderly brushing against the skull of the deceased. Avenged but perhaps not in the best and Danny didn't care.
Re: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - MOONMADE - 09-25-2018
[size=9pt]Blood smeared, thick, across mouths. The unforgettable sound of tearing flesh. It's something he'd known so well as a child it became the norm; his mother wasn't his mother unless her face was stained crimson. The pridelands weren't the pridelands without a corpse. And it'd left its mark on him. Enough to wake him in the few hours of sleep he managed to get, heart throbbing in his throat. But he hadn't seen it here. It was one of the reasons he was able to settle in the endless feilds of the Ascendants. No guts, no gore.
But lately everything had been going to shit. Like now, when he broke into the clearing to find two corpses and Danny looking like nothing he'd seen him as before. The horror scene makes him pause, and he listens to the voice that spills from the child in disbelief, before he gets a hold of himself and intervenes. "Danny! Stop." He says, disturbed voice almost drowned out by the sounds of digging. The child continues and Moon realizes he has to do something, advances on the body quick and stands over it. He puts himself between the two and attempts to shove the child away, hopefully just enough to knock him out of his trance. Lips drawn back in disgust, he glances at the mess he stands over and back to the child, seemingly speechless. But that never lasts long. "What the hell are you doing, kid?"
But lately everything had been going to shit. Like now, when he broke into the clearing to find two corpses and Danny looking like nothing he'd seen him as before. The horror scene makes him pause, and he listens to the voice that spills from the child in disbelief, before he gets a hold of himself and intervenes. "Danny! Stop." He says, disturbed voice almost drowned out by the sounds of digging. The child continues and Moon realizes he has to do something, advances on the body quick and stands over it. He puts himself between the two and attempts to shove the child away, hopefully just enough to knock him out of his trance. Lips drawn back in disgust, he glances at the mess he stands over and back to the child, seemingly speechless. But that never lasts long. "What the hell are you doing, kid?"
Re: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - GABRIEL - 09-25-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]//psst gabe's not here
[align=right][i]——INFO
Re: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - MOONMADE - 09-25-2018
[size=9pt]/im a dumbass. edited
Re: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - DANNY - 09-25-2018
[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"] Sides twitched the moment a new body came into contact and twitched, nostrils flaring before rounding at the one who dared attempt to come at him. The fury and stress that boiled in the depth of his soul simmered the moment white eyes focused on the familiar figure of Moon and weariness settled over the shadowhound and took a step back. Body aching as the Danny rested on his stomach and shuddered while his form shrank back to its regular size, faint wisps of shadows appearing from the cuts that were slowly healing. A frown formed on the child’s maw then looked down at his paws. It was necessary. This individual had taken the life of someone he’d yet to meet, but it didn’t mean he’d let it slide by.
So the fatigued child crawled over to Moon with clear eyes calm despite the act of violence he committed. "It was justice." Barely above a whisper. "They deserved to die." It seemed right within his own mind. A life for a life. Blood for blood. An eye for an eye. There is only fairness when one is willing to get back at another– in his eyes, that is. Head cocking to the side, the kid rested his chin on his paws. "What would you have done?"
Re: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - GABRIEL - 09-25-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/shh no youre not you did great
my post wasnt very clear about the type of gone lmao
[align=right][i]——INFO
Re: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - MOONMADE - 09-26-2018
[size=9pt]'They deserved to die.'
"Not--" he says, feeling the puddle of blood soak into his paws beneath him. He doesn't look down. "like that." He stares at the child before him, gazed pinched with something between pity and disturbia. Moon's voice is adamant but soft, firm but gentle because he's seen kids like this before and there's a part of him thats familiar, almost fond of the type, but another part that has his last meal, as small as it was, rising in his throat. The scent of the blood rises, thick and sickly, from below him and there's nothing he can do but breath it in. Nausea.
Danny's question opens the floodgates. Out pours the memory of Ahkuli with her claws latched in his cheek and himself with her blood on his paws. Golden, shimmering. He recalls her final, blubbering words and the meat of her windpipe that he skewered his claws through. He swallows, thick. "I would've killed." He says, and it slides out so easy it should scare him, weaves through his conscious and makes itself comfortable there. Food for nightmares. "Pittians are scum. But I wouldn't have--" A pause, finally glancing at the corpse he stands over and struggling to find the words for what exactly Danny did. "Shredded. We don't do that here. You kill if you need to kill, Danny. But no senseless shit. You make it clean."
"Not--" he says, feeling the puddle of blood soak into his paws beneath him. He doesn't look down. "like that." He stares at the child before him, gazed pinched with something between pity and disturbia. Moon's voice is adamant but soft, firm but gentle because he's seen kids like this before and there's a part of him thats familiar, almost fond of the type, but another part that has his last meal, as small as it was, rising in his throat. The scent of the blood rises, thick and sickly, from below him and there's nothing he can do but breath it in. Nausea.
Danny's question opens the floodgates. Out pours the memory of Ahkuli with her claws latched in his cheek and himself with her blood on his paws. Golden, shimmering. He recalls her final, blubbering words and the meat of her windpipe that he skewered his claws through. He swallows, thick. "I would've killed." He says, and it slides out so easy it should scare him, weaves through his conscious and makes itself comfortable there. Food for nightmares. "Pittians are scum. But I wouldn't have--" A pause, finally glancing at the corpse he stands over and struggling to find the words for what exactly Danny did. "Shredded. We don't do that here. You kill if you need to kill, Danny. But no senseless shit. You make it clean."
Re: WHAT IS THE SOUL OF A MAN? // OPEN - Feyre - 09-26-2018
☽ ☽ ☽
[color=#ac5847]"Clean."
And yet, the word brought back haunting sensations, the ghosts of screams long since silenced ringing in her ears, throat constricting as she tried to drag herself back to reality, back to a scene far more gruesome than the one playing in her mind. The logical explanation for all of this was her connection to the dead- obviously she must have been told too many scary stories, the chilling reminders of how her closest friends and confidants perished a lasting memory that just so happened to be triggered by this scene. By that word. But she was smart. Feyre knew otherwise.
Still, she tried to look unfazed as she studied the corpse, face growing paler by the moment. [color=#ac5847]"Let me burn it. Please. It's too mangled to bury it," Fey almost pleaded, sounding more grown up than she ever had before, violet eyes not violet or even amber but something else, some off-color bluish gray that looked more like a trick of the light than anything else. Yes, it had to be- there was that purple again, vibrant and burning as she started at the Cosmic General. [color=#ac5847]"It's all we can do." She'd blink a few times, coming back to her senses only to appear visibly nauseated, the strong scent of copper in the air almost successful in causing her to throw up. She shouldn't be here, really she shouldn't, but she made no move to depart. Not yet.
[color=#ac5847]"This is gross."
There it was again, that little sliver of innocence that managed to shine through in all the right and wrong times.
(it took me too long to respond because i fell asleep i'm so sorry)
And yet, the word brought back haunting sensations, the ghosts of screams long since silenced ringing in her ears, throat constricting as she tried to drag herself back to reality, back to a scene far more gruesome than the one playing in her mind. The logical explanation for all of this was her connection to the dead- obviously she must have been told too many scary stories, the chilling reminders of how her closest friends and confidants perished a lasting memory that just so happened to be triggered by this scene. By that word. But she was smart. Feyre knew otherwise.
Still, she tried to look unfazed as she studied the corpse, face growing paler by the moment. [color=#ac5847]"Let me burn it. Please. It's too mangled to bury it," Fey almost pleaded, sounding more grown up than she ever had before, violet eyes not violet or even amber but something else, some off-color bluish gray that looked more like a trick of the light than anything else. Yes, it had to be- there was that purple again, vibrant and burning as she started at the Cosmic General. [color=#ac5847]"It's all we can do." She'd blink a few times, coming back to her senses only to appear visibly nauseated, the strong scent of copper in the air almost successful in causing her to throw up. She shouldn't be here, really she shouldn't, but she made no move to depart. Not yet.
[color=#ac5847]"This is gross."
There it was again, that little sliver of innocence that managed to shine through in all the right and wrong times.
(it took me too long to respond because i fell asleep i'm so sorry)