Beasts of Beyond
CORAZÓN / DEATH - Printable Version

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CORAZÓN / DEATH - LAZARUS - 10-19-2018

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]/ EDIT: please wait for gabe / alloy to get here first!
he's not technically dead yet, but he will be very. very shortly, so. uh. yeah. incident and injury are not described in detail so there shouldn't really be anything. awful here? aside from death and blood.
small description of the wound if anyone needs to know?:
Lazarus had never been a fan of the cold. Even without leaves to start falling, he would know when it was close. A nip in the air would drive the younger dogs to huddle together, a pile of shifting fur. He had not been a part of those piles for long (too rough, even for street kids), so afterwards he would grow wary of those first nips in the air, frowning as the chill bit at his skin under short fur that was hardly meant for this. He earned the warmest corners because he had no other option, except to keel over and admit defeat. That had never been his way in life. Lazarus fought for every inch he gained towards the future. It never stuck around, that inch, but eventually he gained two, and three, and four. Months later, he was miles away from the street corner and that sudden, relentless cold. These days, at least he has a warning. His second fall, and he's starting to feel that chill again.

The leaves at the edge of The Ascendants' territory are turning all kinds of pretty colors, like flickering candle flames, maybe. It took him long enough to realize that it was better this way. The world was beautiful. He never saw it when it was black and grey — he slept on concrete until everything hurt and his body scabbed up. The grass here is soft. He sits at the edge of their pool sometimes and just thinks, even when he's not battling down a fever. Rituals surrounding this place went right over his head. To Lazarus, it was only pretty. But that on its own is enough to calm him down, even if it means nothing to him. Or maybe the meaning is just different than what it should be. He doesn't understand the pendants and the necklaces and the the meteorites. Stars don't mean anything. It's just... people. People are starting to matter.

He made it this far because of Gabriel. That was the only reason he ever made it off of that street corner, to a place where leaves let him know that it was getting cold before the snow did. The world is open and he feels free, but there's a debt to be paid. Nobody who knows him would say that they expected him to live a long, peaceful life. Life around him was a violent whirlwind. He had never learned how to be gentle, though people had tried. Old habits died hard, or so they said. That didn't mean he was entirely incapable of learning new things — he tried, even if it wasn't always enough. He didn't bite, didn't snarl, didn't snap when people got too close. But there was some doubt lingering, after the recent... mess. Both in their minds and his. It made this decision an easier one, because if he couldn't live right, maybe he could die right.

Everything went slower than he would expect it to, but it was also far more peaceful than he would ever deserve. Lazarus was used to bleeding. His body pressed firmly against the ground shields clear water from the deep red that flows almost lethargically now. It slicks his throat and his chest, sticky and heavy, and he feels so... sleepy, pleasantly so, though his heart was beating faster against his skin. There's a certain peace to be found in what's inevitable. Like death, and winter.


Re: CORAZÓN / DEATH - aureate - 10-19-2018

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]a very tiny track on my main since i won't be on laz's sub for a bit
+ also since i was late to edit it in, i'd like gabe to get here first so please wait for alloy if that'd be possible


Re: CORAZÓN / DEATH - GABRIEL - 10-19-2018

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]"Get out of here as soon as you can, kid. Don't lose yourself to this place." Those were the words he'd said to a child so many months ago, the last words he'd say to anyone before his world became the sterile white of a lab and clinical, detached stares. He couldn't remember much about that time, but he hadn't forgotten Laz, had woken in this bizarre body and resolved he was still going to return for him, drag him outside the hellhole before he became part of it. Before he became the king of the hill, like the bastard Gabriel killed, whose body he stepped over to get to Laz. Could he have stood aside for a boy to become a monster? No. That wouldn't be his future, so he intervened, killed anyone with influence, and dragged him off, far away from cold streets and desperately starving eyes. It'd been a painfully slow process, and not everything could be soothed when so much of Laz's life had become a fight.

But the trouble was worth it. If he could choose between gradually showing a child the world was more than food-scrambles and a ruthless killer, he would choose the former every time. Why wouldn't he? So many people had already turned their faces away from Laz, that bony-muscled boy with blood in his teeth and a daze in his eyes; so many of them had given up too soon, figured there was no hope for him, or just hadn't cared. Gabriel could have been Laz, if his mother hadn't stuck through thick and thin. He was lucky. He wasn't going to take it for granted and ignore when people didn't have the same fortune.

It was the best decision he'd made in a long, long time. It had felt...like he was helping again, as opposed to the limping end of Espada wherein they did more harm than good. Gabriel had missed that. He hadn't given himself to a life of working to aid people because he wanted the selfish benefits, or because he didn't care. But he had been punished for it, back then, had withered and passed himself over because he couldn't be useful anymore, but maybe someone could make something of the leftovers. He hadn't been satisfied with the results. Except Laz- again, best decision. He'd never change it. Gabe couldn't regret his son.

He'd been thinking about it a lot lately, ever since his body started falling apart. He assumed it was a "towards the end of life introspection" thing, and it didn't bother him too much. Death was expected. For everyone.

But someone once said that no parent should have to outlive their children. Gabriel had been pretty confident that wouldn't happen, confrontational as Laz could be. There were good people here. Good people the world shit on consistently.

Gabriel tracked the heavy scent of blood down, Laz's scent alongside it. Even as he told himself that the canine had probably just caught something, his heart quickened, each beat heavy-pressed against bone, air stuttering in his lungs.

And it dropped. He rocked back with it, stumbling at the imbalance, an awful, ragged sound abrading his throat. The hybrid shot forward, tension snapping him into a frantic pace that still took too long to bring him to Laz's side. "I'm here, mijo, I'm here." He cradled that large head so gently in his talons, wings flared out in a distressed arc. His neck- no. No that wasn't- no. No. But it was. A canyon in Laz's flesh he would fall into, tumbling down into the red that had already begun framing his body in a mockery of chalk lines. Too much too soon. Too late. "Perdóname. Please. Please." His front-limb shifted beneath the broad skull, lifting, pressing a dark face into his cheek, tugging at his skin, his little nubs with an uncertain beak.

"I'm here." He ducked, holding his head against the slit for pressure, but it was attempting to block a dam already drained. The pulse against his cheek was frail, slow, and his breath bundled in his throat as his eyes seared, unable to block the patter that was terrifyingly stronger than the blip in Laz's throat. "Lo siento- te he fallado. I'm so sorry." His talons trembled on the side of his face, and the rest of him electric, shaking. "I love you." The stroke lengthened, crossing planes of head and shoulder, begging to coax the dying warmth back. But he knew. He couldn't lie to himself, to either of them, not with the emptying chasm between them and the scalding of Gabe's eyes branding their faces.

"Arrorró pedazo de mi corazón."
[align=right][i]——INFO



Re: CORAZÓN / DEATH - LAZARUS - 10-20-2018

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]He should have paid better attention to what Gabriel had told him all those months ago. The words had hooked deep underneath his skin, a thin wire that wrapped around his ribs and cut into his heart, but it just stayed there uselessly, suffocating but not changing. He hadn't known how to leave. Parts of him had already been carved out by the need to simply survive, and maybe leaving wouldn't give him those parts back. No, he knows that it wouldn't, because when he did end up leaving, he still bared his teeth at anyone who got too close to his food or his body. Those were the only two things that would ever matter to him, it seemed. He had no room for kindness or an easy charm. People bantered with the hybrid and he stood there awkwardly, tripped up by social cues he could never catch and a whole world that he had never seen.

He'd needed a sign for a while, a warning to everyone that he was dangerous, that he wasn't normal the way that they were. It didn't bother him, not when he knew that people deserved to know that much about him.

What bothered him was that the world was all sort of right to avoid him, and maybe it was best to avoid them too. Sometimes he still thought about heading back to those dark corners, because that was where the world made sense. Not here, where people stood still and asked permission to enter, where they shared food and helped each other without expectations. Lazarus knew that when somebody took care of him, they wanted something. He would listen expectantly for some way to repay them. That was just how things worked. But Gabe didn't want anything back, and neither did these people. It left him a little off balance and all the more intent on taking care of his own.

Gabriel was a part of that now, whether he wanted to be or not. Nobody asked him to pull his weight, but he still tallied up the costs. Raising him, teaching him, protecting him. If there was one thing that he could do, it was help. Just a bit, maybe enough to make what he was going through stop. He can't pretend that this wasn't entirely selfish. No matter what he said, the hybrid wasn't okay. And the world deserves more of what he has than whatever Lazarus could think of offering. More kids deserved to be picked up when the world kept knocking them down, and that was something that he was good at. For a while, he couldn't help but be jealous of everyone else who got his time, but it started making sense. The world deserved him, the people here deserved him.

He's still relieved that he got here in time. The Cane Corso's head lifts slightly in the hybrid's talons, a weak, ragdoll movement despite his size. Contact feels distant, so removed from this world already, but it feels nice to know that he was there. Words register dully, the feelings much stronger. This place is like sitting here and staring at the water, or falling asleep warm for the first time. He feels cold and tired, but in a comfortable way. Hazily, he can still see the way Gabe blocks the sunlight and panics. "Te preocupas demasiado, anciano," he rasps, voice soft. Laz had mentioned before that sometimes, a bad option was all that was left to choose. Gabriel's started him on this path, it wasn't his fault. But this was his. "Quiero dormir. Todo estará bien.

"Te amo mucho, papá."
For the first time, he finds that he's afraid. Of what will happen now, of where he'll go. He'd heard stories from others, they just weren't things that he could confirm without this. So he lurches closer, head knocking against Gabe's. It doesn't make it stop, but... it makes it easier. "Esto no es tu culpa."

That, for now, is the end. And the truth.


Re: CORAZÓN / DEATH - ONISION. - 10-20-2018

[table]
[tr]
[td]
[Image: zh8lTc5.png]
ONISION M.F.
— WHEN WE'RE IN YOUR BED
[size=8pt]tags - plotting - reference
the ascendants
- lunar lieutenant
mentors watson
10 months old


physically varies
easy to piss off

demihomosexual
homoromantic

tsundere asshole
dating alexander

were-vampirism
known to shift into aloysius

[/td][td]
Death. Something harsh, but beautiful depending on the situation.

Onision thought Lady Death was cruel to those who didn't want death and even crueler to those who did- creatures like himself, bound to this planet by a soul that they didn't want, powers they didn't want, but Onision could never change his fate to live forever.

It was moments like this that he wished he could- he wished he could give some of his lifespan, maybe about twelve years, to this boy, who was bleeding out on the ground. It was moments like this when Oni wished Imperia was around to soothe the dying male, but she wasn't, and Oni watched with a wide eye as Gabe spoke in soft spanish, ears swiveling to listen for a heartbeat. Any breaths, any pain, but he couldn't focus. The smell of blood was making his pupils sharpen and fangs extend.

Onision would have stayed behind to wait for Moon or Azazel to come, but he couldn't. If he did, the same thing would happen again. He would wake up to a body below his paws, their throat ripped out and blood dripping from his jaws. So, instead, Oni turned and ran.

His lungs screamed for air as the vampire headed back to the Observatory, calling out for the two clanmates he knew actually had medical experience. "Moon! Azazel! Lazarus is bleeding out, uhm.. Gabe is with him- I don't know what's going on- I can't stay there-" Onision meowed out, his vision clearing as the smell of blood slowly disappeared from his mind. His fangs stayed elongated, but the male flicked his tail in the direction of the injured groupmate.

[member=1549]moonmade[/member]
[member=2471]azazel.[/member]


all you give me is a heartbeat —
[/td][/tr][/table]

[W]isker


Re: CORAZÓN / DEATH - MOONMADE - 10-20-2018

[size=9pt]He'd wanted to make things better. When he was handed the leadership, that was. As much of a catastrophe Moon was - as much as he, himself, functioned about as well as as a machine that hadn't seen oil in a decade, thats cogs had long since rusted and fallen off - he had every intention to keep things going. The plan was to make things good for this place and the people that lived here, keep it like that, and then die trying. Even if he had to keep the messy shit to himself. Like the shakes and the nightmares and every other fucking disastrous trait that he couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried. He'd tuck it away for the early hours of the morning, and cope through the rest.

But it wasn't working. He wasn't good at this. People were dropping like flies and there was fuck all he could do about it. He wasn't cut out to play the hero.

And here's another thing to prove it.

Out the Observatory's doors as soon as he hears the call, the lion stumbles through the uneven fields until he sees Gabriel's hunching figure, the head he cradles against his own, and then stands and watches the blood pool around Lazarus' body- and does nothing. He sees the canine turn to a corpse before his eyes, and he's paralyzed, and he does nothing. What the fuck kind of leader-- what the fuck kind of healer stands there and does nothing?

In the end, there's nothing he could've done. The canine's fate had long since been decided by the time Moon arrived at the scene. All there's left is the glimmering crimson, soaking into the grass around them, the sickly stillness of it all. A long time passes before he finds his voice - a ragged, quiet thing, some hopeless attempt at comforting the mourning.  "He's gone, Gabe." He says, the breeze almost drowning him out. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."




Re: CORAZÓN / DEATH - GABRIEL - 10-20-2018

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]The thing about Gabe's position was that he made the sacrifices, he took the burdens he could so that they wouldn't have to. It caught up with him, like it always did, but it was a price he had been willing to pay since he first took out the loan- it was a price he'd been paying for some time, selling bits of himself to make the bill, that way Laz wouldn't have to. He didn't...he'd never demanded loyalty, or gratitude, or any kind of balanced reciprocity; he was content with nothing if it meant they had something, because Laz's life was invaluable and he deserved to know what it was like for someone to care. Maybe he hadn't made it clear enough he hadn't expected anything from him, or maybe having a kid kind of entailed a mutual affection.

And you'd think he knew how unfair the world could be, when he spent so much of his time in the muck, pulling kids out of tar and soot, sometimes into better lives, sometimes into worse ones. With Laz, he'd seen the injustice from the start, when he'd fought to a bloody victory over a bone, how he'd glared a warning to Gabriel when he thought he might fight him for it too. The inequity was violently bright and neon-flashing in his face, and he'd seen it, acknowledged it, and thought he might mute the colors, soften the harshness of Laz's world. He was one boy of too many, but Gabriel was familiar with his limits as a single man. However much he wanted to, however much he bit and yanked at the chains, he couldn't get to everyone.

So he liked to be prepared for that reason. He hated the world catching him off guard, and he'd thought he'd gotten fairly proficient at dodging the curve balls, but this- he hadn't. He hadn't prepared for this. There was no plan, no strategy, no second option if it went south- he could only sit here, cradling Lazarus' head, trembling with the visceral cold. "Shh, don't talk," he murmured, but Laz didn't listen, kept talking, voice wane and small and wounding. He was dying, except Gabe couldn't see any panic in his eyes, knew it was the blood-loss and shock, maybe, that kept him from struggling. Pain was probably distant for him by now, sluggish as this was, and he wished that could mean something, that he could find comfort knowing he wasn't in agony, but it didn't. He'd always imagined a death for himself as bloody, violent, but.

Laz's death should not be as his birth, should not be bleeding into the ground like all those men he'd killed. It should be in his sleep, the gentle drifting of a leaf from branch, or some quick shit like that, with children and grandchildren -maybe great grandchildren- to have spent the day before easing the way there. Not as a boy, with his throat cut, in the talons of a man whose own days were numbered.

"Duérmase, mi niño." He pressed his forehead into Laz's, made himself watch as green dulled and fell to emptiness. Gabriel's throat worked, mouth dry, and he closed his eyes, taking more of Laz's weight, almost enough to flatten him, but he would hold as much of him as he could, would feel him warm before he became stiff and cold. "Verte otra vez." Gabriel smoothed his claws over his face, desperately tender even though nothing of who Laz was remained.

He laid his head against his again, and said nothing, Moon's apologies on numb ears.
[align=right][i]——INFO