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and every breath we drew // o - prompt + poetry - Printable Version

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and every breath we drew // o - prompt + poetry - valo-kas - 04-16-2018

valo-kas was not accustomed to terror. this was an animal that thought that slogging into a radioactive swamp in search of a gator to woo was, like, an okay idea. maybe dying too often in the dumbest of ways had taken that feeling from them and stomped it into an easy-to-ignore paste regardless of memory loss, if that made any remote sense (though nothing about their circumstances at any given time really did) or maybe that was just how they were. right now, though? right now, valo-kas was on the verge of some kind of real, bona fide breakdown and it was all the stupid, no good, god damned weather’s fault.

how’s it get so fucking blustery in a swamp? how’s that happen? they didn’t know jack about swamps so they figured maybe their shock was misguided but whatever. the mutant slunk through the ghost town as carefully as they could manage, quietly fishing scraps of papers out of puddles and bushes and keeping them stuffed sloppily in their mouth so they wouldn’t get the chance to fly away again. damn near every work of theirs now decorated the joint, putting their innermost musings on blast. valo-kas wanted to crawl into a hole and die. just act regular. last thing anyone’s gonna accuse you of is writing poetry. they couldn’t remember their own mother’s name, who would dare accuse them of remembering the rhyme scheme for a sonnet? c’mere Sonnet No. 8: The One About Girls (Again), said sonnet was taken gingerly into their mouth by the part of the page that would suffer the least were it to be stained by mouth goo.

So far they had collected that, Dumbest Motherfucker Still Kicking, Swamp Cinquain, This Would Be a Song if I Could Sing, and Worms the Squirmening, leaving an approximate dozens still scattered about, which they tottered after while trying to keep a level head.

just be cool. you’re just picking up because it needs to get picked up. valo-kas nervously snatched up an poem that had gone unnamed because of how embarrassingly sappy it had gotten. in fact i think i oughta let you go. they shredded the unnamed abomination, face warm. this isn’t fair, i don’t even remember how many there are! just that there were poems. several poems. they had been a somewhat useful tool to help get oriented after the Thing. valo-kas trudged onward, getting their mouth around another scrap of paper. just keep makin’ progress.

Re: and every breath we drew // o - prompt + poetry - beck. - 04-16-2018

      Valo's efforts were in vain, as grubby dead paws had managed to snatch up at least two pages of scandalous poetry. Perhaps the wind had a little assistance by a cold draft, and Beck was more eager than ever to nose around in what he assumed were psychotic scrawlings by the mutated feline. With his loot clenched in his jaws and slinking the opposite direction, the poltergeist flopped down against the ivy-choked wall of a house, hiding crumpled papers from Valo's searching gaze until they turned their backs. At the first chance he got, Beck unfolded one of the pages, expecting a deranged message to be scratched out on the paper. Why else would Valo be so desperate to recover it? It was quite the let-down; he couldn't decipher more than half the words lovingly written down. His freckled features wrinkled in plain confusion -- since when did Valo-ass learn to read? -- and Beck started to flip the page over and glare at it from different angles as if looking for a secret line or stanza somewhere he could understand. The other was no different. Illiteracy was a bitch.

    He was tempted to just toss the poetry into the mud and curbstomp it, but his narrowed eyes glanced back up at the scrambling Valo-kas and flickered with a malicious glint. He rose from his slump against the overgrown house, claws hooking the missing pages. "He-ey Valo, I think ya missed some," Beck harshly crooned in a breathless wheeze, all too happy to wave around the open papers for others to glimpse and murmur over with an awful grin splitting his scarred muzzle.
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Re: and every breath we drew // o - prompt + poetry - valo-kas - 04-17-2018

valo-kas froze, looking at beck with pleading eyes for about as long as it took them to be enraged at that show of weakness on their behalf. three eyes narrowed and the sheaf of poetry in their leaking jaws was perforated with deep teethmarks as they clenched down and then spat, stamping a paw into the now-illegible mess to keep it still.

“[color=salmon]you in’erested in helping me clean this- clean this, uuh, trash? s-someone really fucked up here, y’know? i dunno whose bullshit word-papers these are but damn, right?” maybe if the universe decided to stop hating them, they could play off their frantic demeanor as just That’s How I Am, Baby! That’s Valo-Kas! and nobody would question it.

valo-kas pawed at the air. “[color=salmon]why doncha uh. drop that po- gimme those, papers, dude. i want those papers. so i can,” god, what was something characteristically and eyerollingly nasty? “[color=salmon]i wanna eat my own, hot- i wanna, vomit worms, into them and roll ‘em up and eat it. my own, um, hot worm vomit paper burritos. ‘cause uh, fuck whoever left ‘em out here. gimme.” they waggled their paw again, keeping the other pressing down insistently on what they had already collected and feeling painfully aware of the other uncollected pages scattered about camp.

Re: and every breath we drew // o - prompt + poetry - Belladonna - 04-18-2018

[align=center][div style="width: 450px;; text-align: justify"][size=8pt]Belladonna watched as Valo-kas and Beck waded around, collecting pieces of paper - and Belladonna followed suit - she was just about to head out to collect some herbs, a basket in her jaws, but using it to collect the paper wouldn't be so bad. "Here, let me help you."

Belladonna followed into the sludge after her clanmates, snatching salvagable paper, and with nigh a small glance, she placed them in the basket. She figured it was probably personal - and noting a page about worms, she looked to the mutated feline shoving paper in his mouth, still dripping with pink goo. "Did you say something about worms? this seems to be about them," she mewed, placing the page in the basket without another glance.

"Speech."

Re: and every breath we drew // o - prompt + poetry - valo-kas - 04-24-2018

belladonna was given a reproachful three-eyed staredown because valo-kas expected the worst. expected to be harangued for indulging (to put it very lightly) in something as pussy as poetry. they pressed at the ground with dull little claws readying some kind of vicious, nonsensical retort to a host of imagined insults and jabs, but she was civil because of course she was because this was ultimately only a big deal in valo’s head. they were aware of that but that awareness didn’t do shit to assuage their anxiety.

“[color=salmon]um. yeah. just...this is a huge mess. thank you for, um. owning a basket.” a basket would be several times more useful than their own mouth. “[color=salmon]i wouldn’t really pay attention to the uh, words. they’re- uh, like it’s not the most thrilling stuff. just ball it up and, y’know.”

Re: and every breath we drew // o - prompt + poetry - beck. - 04-26-2018

    Bloodless lips tugged back into a half-grin, the jagged edge of his missing cheek twitching in an attempt to stretch his smile further. Valo was grasping at straws to deny their ownership, and Beck thought it was cute in a pathetic way. Like watching a puppy trip over its own over-sized paws. "Aw, Val, ya want this?" His scratchy voice broke as he distorted it into an uncharacteristic croon, a hollow whistle punctuating his syllables. "You're gonna have to come 'nd get it," he slyly hissed through his mocking grin, tilting his head to the side out of habit. When Valo-kas waved for the papers, the poltergeist reared back onto his hindlegs, dangling the poetry from his claws like worms on a hook and just above the mutant's reach. He was having too much fun with teasing the other, evident by his wheezy snickering, even if it wouldn't last for long considering his stunted height.

    Belladonna's assistence wouldn't put a damper on his amusement; at least he knew what the pages' scrawlings meant now. Lantern-like eyes glanced to the side at the papers he was holding above Valo, swiping a vbrant tongue over half-exposed teeth with a smirk. "Oh, so it's 'bout worms, huh? What, did ya write love letters to a buncha worms and gators? Pretty thrillin' t' me -- hey, Bells, come get a look at this page!" The mangy feline proudly brandished his catch in his clammy grasp, wobbling backwards in the boggy mud as his balance faltered.
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