FALLEN ANGEL | joining

[SOCKING]

STOCKING ANARCHY

✯ — if you don't fuck with us then motherfuck you

space

heavenly body, wrapped in carnal flesh. it was disgusting. it was insulting. they cast her down, stripped her of her powers.

angels were perfect, heavenly beings. created from the flesh of the divine. pure justice and truth. graceful beings.

she was no angel now.

the glutton. they called her. the vulgar, they whispered. not fit to be within heaven's gates. not fit to be an angel. not fit to cast down demons. after all, how could a champion of heaven embody the very things they despised? how could she embody the very things they were meant to oppose?

it was so sudden. everyone turned against her. the bitches. the cowardly. she wanted to scream at them. how dare they? how dare they turn on her? they were nothing but pansies. all several hundred years of her life, she had wanted many things. back then, she'd wanted nothing more than to cut them up upon her two blades. feel their souls turn to dust.

judgment had told her it was for her own good.

for her own good her ass. she'd show them. she'd show them all.

that thought was quickly pushed away from the fore center of her mind when she found herself falling. and fast.

she was a comet. a blazing, streaking force of nature on it's way to earth. she felt herself lose her holiness. she could feel the agonizing burn as the fall stripped her of her wings. she was falling too fast to scream at all.

her body fell fast. past a string of barren trees. they broke away with her impact, splintering upon collision. but their branches cut into her now mortal skin. they cut deep, and she felt weak.

she could barely feel herself colliding with the muck of the marshes. too weak to move. her blood mingling with the muck. it was fitting for her. she was filthy. her head ached and ringed with exhaustion and nausea. so numb was she, stocking was unable to move. she didn't want to, anyways.

she lay there, unable to move, and willing herself to waste away.

// tdlr; stocking is an angel cast down from heaven after failing to conform to divine behavior. she is currently laying in the marsh, injured, un-moving and half conscious. her injuries include multiple cuts and scrapes, and a broken hind leg

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✯ — female. tanglewood. moderate difficulty. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[arrow]

[align=center][div style="width: 45%; text-align: justify; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: times new roman;"]♡ — // fun fact: the moment i read "blazing, streaking force", i smelled something cooking

Tanglewood was weird, but in the best way. Swamp dogs and radioactive wastes and a big ol' spider recently. It was a step up from her previous boring life, wandering around like a nomad searching for basic needs. It wasn't great, but it was fine for what it was. But here? Anything can happen in the swamp.

Apparently, that also meant  sky intruders.

"Stick, stick, big stick..." Arrow mused, sitting by herself and picking at a thick stick with her claws. Had to keep them sharp, you know? She hadn't even noticed the streak in the sky, the body coming down at terminal velocity. She didn't just stare at the sky all day after all. However, when the UFO came down and slammed into a tree not too far away from her, Arrow ducked down and covered her head with her paws, flattening her ears to try and reduce incoming hearing damage.

Took a few minutes for her to be convinced the threat was over, popping her paws off her head and letting out a loud "FUCK."

The actual damage was far beyond her comprehension. Busted trees, a whole path of absolute destruction, some one all crumpled up on the end of the new, forcefully carved path. Arrow ungracefully waddled over, ears ringing loudly. "What the hell? Hey, hey! Can we get some help over here? Someone crash landed in the marsh!"

[SOCKING]

STOCKING ANARCHY

✯ — if you don't fuck with us then motherfuck you

space

if only she could look and see the shitshow of a place she'd landed in. she'd be horrified beyond comprehension. to add even worse to the matter, she'd lost on of her stockins-- a fact that she'd be soon to find out as soon as she was healed. granted, the loss of a sock wouldn't present itself as too big of a problem for anyone else, but that stocking was symbolic. it represented her attachment to angel as an angel, and it represented one of the two of her key weapons. but perhaps her swords would be granted null. she wasn't even sure if she had the rest of her powers at this point, let alone the ability to transform her apparel into the two majestic, glorious swords they were meant to be. she might never see them in their true form again.

she was well on her way to the gates of heaven-- or hell, depending. seriously, what was the point of kicking her out if she was going to die anyway and possibly return to their front step? judgment did not think this through.

the pain was too slow to set in, yet it began trailing slowly into her body, igniting her veins on fire.

she could only barely register the voice of another person. stocking's eyes, nearly crusted shut with the optic phlegm, could only peel back so much to register the form of another animal. were they here to put here out of her misery? they might as well do it quickly then. she opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she could have said trailed off into a zombie-esque groan.

// hah. what a coincidence and a note for others, feel free to powerplay peaceful actions!

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✯ — female. tanglewood. moderate difficulty. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[madster]

luckily, there was a nurse in the general idea. unluckily, this nurse was also drunk.

he came at the call of 'somebody help' since he was now an ambulance on paws. he was completely and totally unlicensed to do this despite his title, and yet he still came. why? there was some innate desire in him... to prove himself. he saw the sight and knew what was wrong- something with that leg, surely. he had duct-taped a broken fanny pack to his neck for easy access to the herbs inside (he was a cat and had no thumbs) and he opened the pouch only to find that he had shoved useless weeds and plants in it in a drunken stupor, thinking he had been gathering actual herbs.

damn it. luckily, he had also packed poppy seeds - he knew them well, he was kind of addicted- and bandages, so he could actually do something. "hey, uh.. eat these, it'll hurt less." he instructed, voice slurring. he put the poppy seeds next to her so she could just stick her tongue and lap them up, and he started to bandage her cuts. he knew nayru would have liked him to put some poultice on it, but he had no marigold and certainly wasn't sober enough to chew up some herbs and spit it out on her. the bandage work was sloppy but it worked, hopefully stopping her from bleeding out. something dawned in malphas. he liked this job. he could smell blood all he wanted. "you're in..." he paused to hiccup. "awesome hands."

[SOCKING]

STOCKING ANARCHY

✯ — if you don't fuck with us then motherfuck you

space

she was still able to register the sudden presence in front of her. this stranger smelt awful to say the least. of sharp alcohol, and the tangy scent of herbs. the moment he pried open his pouch, the smell of weed, strong, drifted to her nose. made the girl perk up more, even slightly, to attention. damn, that smelt good. her nose twitched the scent. if she could get her paws on some herbal 'goodness', her day would suck a lot less.

"hey, uh.. eat these, it'll hurt less."

slurred words. black seeds pushed next to her. they were made clear in the close proximity, even through her blurred vision. what the hell was that? it certainly wasn't the weed she was imagining he'd give to her. god damn it. but if it made her feel better, who was she to complain?

almost achingly slowly, she inched forward, letting her coral tongue flicker out to lap at the miniscule pips. it tasted like shit, but it was healing shit. she wasn't too sure what was happening, but during her time in heaven, she had surely heard about the many healing practices on earth. perhaps this was one of them?

stocking grimaced as she swallowed, cringing uncomfortably as the pulpy paste that he chewed to mash splattered against her hide. it felt slimy and wet, and certainly not wet in a good way. the poultice further smeared into her skin by the bandages he'd wrapped around her, but in a way, stocking almost admired the guy's dedication to healing her. for all he knew, she was just some random bitch straight from the sky. he could have left her for dead. they could have left her for dead. but they didn't? it was strange in a way, and almost kind of distressing.

stocking struggled to sit up, only succeeding in raising her frontal body upwards. her optics, once squinted, now flickered and peeled back her eyelids to take a long, lasting look at hear healer. her savior.

so he did have weed in his back. neat.

she opened her mouth to speak, but what have been a grateful, heartfelt 'thank you' only came out as a garbled "can you pass me some of the mary jane?"

space

✯ — female. tanglewood. moderate difficulty. REF. BIO. — ✯

#psychosocial.