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[div style="margin-bottom: 4px; height: auto; font-family: baskerville; font-size: 26px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; color: black;"]NO CHANCE THAT I'LL BE OKAY
ACTIONS | "SPEAKING" | THINKING | TELEPATHY
It has been a few days since Project had washed ashore. Since then, it seemed that every night, the wolf was plagued to be restless, his dreams cryptic and horrifying, images of burned and mutilated bodies, long dead people standing from their grave to ask him if it was worth it. What they meant was never said, but it was clearly implied. They wanted to know if killing them was worth it. But... Project never killed anyone, right? He surely didn't kill anyone since he got here, and that's all that he knew. That and... He was a vampire. These two things were all that he knew, and yet he was plagued by things he didn't know. It was this plaguing that led the wolf to the pirate ship, a place he was told not to go to, something about it being haunted. Personally, he never believed these stories, Project didn't think it was really haunted, not until he saw a ghost himself.
Slung around his neck, however, was something very real. It was his shiny metal flask, still full of a liquor that had been there since as long as he knew. How good was it? That he hadn't tested. But, with his sleepless nights full of visions of atrocities, Project figured it was as good a time as any.
Heavy, lumbering pawsteps carried an exhausted canine closer to the wreck, his weight shifting with his steps as he desperately fought fatigue, his mind unwilling to silence itself. Finally, he had gotten close enough to sit in the shade, the sunset basking the volcanic beach in an orange and pink light.
I've seen an endless amount of these, and yet... each one is more uniquely beautiful than the last... The pitch black and orange speckled wolf thought, his mismatched eyes scanning the area, his porcelain half mask coming off once he had deemed the area was free of gawking eyes. The burns that were hidden began to sting incredibly in the sea breeze, the infection he was suffering from washing up during the storm simply amplifying the pain that shot through his skull and down his neck.
It was in this state, tensed and grimacing, that Project would be found, the Typhoon leader having slipped under the vampire's attention.
Slung around his neck, however, was something very real. It was his shiny metal flask, still full of a liquor that had been there since as long as he knew. How good was it? That he hadn't tested. But, with his sleepless nights full of visions of atrocities, Project figured it was as good a time as any.
Heavy, lumbering pawsteps carried an exhausted canine closer to the wreck, his weight shifting with his steps as he desperately fought fatigue, his mind unwilling to silence itself. Finally, he had gotten close enough to sit in the shade, the sunset basking the volcanic beach in an orange and pink light.
I've seen an endless amount of these, and yet... each one is more uniquely beautiful than the last... The pitch black and orange speckled wolf thought, his mismatched eyes scanning the area, his porcelain half mask coming off once he had deemed the area was free of gawking eyes. The burns that were hidden began to sting incredibly in the sea breeze, the infection he was suffering from washing up during the storm simply amplifying the pain that shot through his skull and down his neck.
It was in this state, tensed and grimacing, that Project would be found, the Typhoon leader having slipped under the vampire's attention.