[Post will be switched to subaccount later. For now, main account. Partially a mobile post at the end.]
The innocence of youth was oh-so familiar to the child who stood with their family. There was no inkling of trauma, nor a hint of sadness. Only the beauty and love of those that surrounded them in their home in the neutral lands. Fear had never crossed his mind until the sound of a roaring snarl crossed his pointed ears, causing them to pin back. He clambered to his feet, away from the blanket that his parents wrapped him in, and rushed to the window. His rough breath fogged the cold glass immediately, but he could see a silhouette. A desperate paw wiped away the perspiration and stared as a dragonic figure landed before them with a thunderous roar and lightning to follow.
A woman stood in front of the dragon, valiantly staring up at the beast: his mother. Oh, his poor mother. Her bravery had gotten the best of her and before her son's eyes, the beast's large foot came down. Crumbling bones and gooey insides splayed outwards underneath Bai Shi's weight, splattering all that was left in the area for her children to see. Parts gushed outwards and landed on the window where little eyes watched, dripping as Waylon started to wail. Doom had come.
His head whipped around towards his father, searching for answers, but found no sign of him. Choking in desperation, he called out to him. Paws scrambled and pushed away from the window as tears began to rush down his cheeks. "Dad?" he cried. No answer had been received. Nor was it going to be.
As he surveyed the home, he heard pawsteps out on the porch and he whipped his head around. His father's triumphant attitude led him into the valley with eyes like daggers daring the beast to come closer to his home, despite his wife's own demise. Waylon could not hear his pleading, but he imagined it was valiant. Maybe even desperate. In the moment, the child shot out onto the porch and bellowed once more. His own efforts were the same.
"DAD!"
His scream was drowned out by a gust of air and a fury of flames from the beast's mouth. Fire engulfed his father, licking away at his fur and singeing whatever else. Among the fire came screams of anguish. Flesh bubbed and sloughed onto the floor before his eyes, leaving charred bone to drop to the floor. Waylon's horror was unimaginable. Whatever was left of his parents was now either a liquid puddle or a cracked pile of debris spread across the area, ready for all to see. In an effort to escape the same fate, the child turned and ran.
The screams of his siblings filled his ears as he entered the home, followed by crashing. A yellow tail flew above their heads and brought down wooden planks from above, landing on one sibling’s spine with an audible crack. Waylon looked up towards Bai Shi as he blindly rushed to his sibling’s side, crying out in agony. “P-please stop!” he begged. No acknowledgement, only rage. Dark paw pads and claws latched around his sibling’s leg in an attempt to drag them out from underneath the debris, watching as them as they struggled to move under the weight. Tormented mumbles came from both sides of the situation. Eventually, one side grew silent. The other became louder, realizing his sibling had passed.
Waylon started to shake, looking up from the corpse. Eyes widened. Fire. Fire everywhere. Bright hues immersed the home and started to singe whatever it could. The tears that lined his soft cheeks started to evaporate into the air, mixing with the smoke that was rising in the small space. Dark hues swerved towards his other two siblings and their belonging, watching as the flames he ignored start to creep closer to them and trap them in their room. In a flustered panic, the canine dive forward.
Crash!
A flame-laden ceiling plank crashed in front of Waylon. The door was blocked. Fearful cries from inside begged for help, but as their sibling looked, there was no other path to take. Beginning to feel nauseous from the smoke, the child could only scream back in misery. Soon the two also became disturbingly quiet.
As the world around him started to cave in and the flames began to singe the hardwood floors, he looked around in defeat. Death had come, but would any help do the same? Anxious eyes surveyed the area, finding nowhere to go… but one place. The corner of their home had yet to be touched. A leather small chair with a sprawled out white blanket on top of it, one he cherished in his childhood, remained peacefully. The area was high enough for him to jump but also avoid the lower flames. Unbeknownst of him, the smoke was a problem.
With no one left and the flicker of the flames growing near, the kid shot towards the chair. Haunches tried to launch him onto it’s surface, but he slipped and claws dragged across the leather. Desperate, he tried again…. and again… and again… until he made it. High and feeling like he escaped, the boy grabbed the blanket. In a swift move, he draped it around himself and covered his head in an attempt to hide. Fate, unfortunately, had a target.
While the flames did not grow near, the smoke did. Already huffing and puffing, Waylon leaned into the chair with tears lining his cheeks and doom creeping in. A ragged wheeze echoed out. While covered by the sound of the whipping flames, anyone who could have heard would have never realized if it was from his newfound trauma or lack of oxygen. Feeling lightheaded, Waylon’s eyes begin to droop. A sense of defeat led them to close.
The flames began to near, but by the time they arrived, the boy’s vision had already gone dark. His breath had begun to slow. A tiny heart’s thump had started to be silenced, no longer pounding in his ears. In time, thoughts passed. Sadness felt irrelevant, only the sensory input that the arriving heat felt appropriate. Waylon could feel everything, yet know nothing.
Fire caved in around him, moving away from the ashes nearby. Some licks began to dissipate into nothingness, fading into the sky as dark smoke. Others, a very small few, headed towards Waylon to pick up what remained. Small flames started to crawl up from the floor and onto the legs of the chair, only to slowly move up the leather. The large cloth atop of Waylon hissed as it burned, leaving the singed bottom underneath the boy’s body to be dealt with. Leather went ahead to become liquid, searing and sizzling around the child. A portion gathered nearby his face, sticking to it and seared his flesh. Unconscious and unable to express his sorrow, there was nothing more to do than experience the pain.
Shock caused his body to come to a instantaneous stop. Not a racing thought, nor a single worry, came to mind. Death had captured not only his family, but HIM.
The innocence of youth was oh-so familiar to the child who stood with their family. There was no inkling of trauma, nor a hint of sadness. Only the beauty and love of those that surrounded them in their home in the neutral lands. Fear had never crossed his mind until the sound of a roaring snarl crossed his pointed ears, causing them to pin back. He clambered to his feet, away from the blanket that his parents wrapped him in, and rushed to the window. His rough breath fogged the cold glass immediately, but he could see a silhouette. A desperate paw wiped away the perspiration and stared as a dragonic figure landed before them with a thunderous roar and lightning to follow.
A woman stood in front of the dragon, valiantly staring up at the beast: his mother. Oh, his poor mother. Her bravery had gotten the best of her and before her son's eyes, the beast's large foot came down. Crumbling bones and gooey insides splayed outwards underneath Bai Shi's weight, splattering all that was left in the area for her children to see. Parts gushed outwards and landed on the window where little eyes watched, dripping as Waylon started to wail. Doom had come.
His head whipped around towards his father, searching for answers, but found no sign of him. Choking in desperation, he called out to him. Paws scrambled and pushed away from the window as tears began to rush down his cheeks. "Dad?" he cried. No answer had been received. Nor was it going to be.
As he surveyed the home, he heard pawsteps out on the porch and he whipped his head around. His father's triumphant attitude led him into the valley with eyes like daggers daring the beast to come closer to his home, despite his wife's own demise. Waylon could not hear his pleading, but he imagined it was valiant. Maybe even desperate. In the moment, the child shot out onto the porch and bellowed once more. His own efforts were the same.
"DAD!"
His scream was drowned out by a gust of air and a fury of flames from the beast's mouth. Fire engulfed his father, licking away at his fur and singeing whatever else. Among the fire came screams of anguish. Flesh bubbed and sloughed onto the floor before his eyes, leaving charred bone to drop to the floor. Waylon's horror was unimaginable. Whatever was left of his parents was now either a liquid puddle or a cracked pile of debris spread across the area, ready for all to see. In an effort to escape the same fate, the child turned and ran.
The screams of his siblings filled his ears as he entered the home, followed by crashing. A yellow tail flew above their heads and brought down wooden planks from above, landing on one sibling’s spine with an audible crack. Waylon looked up towards Bai Shi as he blindly rushed to his sibling’s side, crying out in agony. “P-please stop!” he begged. No acknowledgement, only rage. Dark paw pads and claws latched around his sibling’s leg in an attempt to drag them out from underneath the debris, watching as them as they struggled to move under the weight. Tormented mumbles came from both sides of the situation. Eventually, one side grew silent. The other became louder, realizing his sibling had passed.
Waylon started to shake, looking up from the corpse. Eyes widened. Fire. Fire everywhere. Bright hues immersed the home and started to singe whatever it could. The tears that lined his soft cheeks started to evaporate into the air, mixing with the smoke that was rising in the small space. Dark hues swerved towards his other two siblings and their belonging, watching as the flames he ignored start to creep closer to them and trap them in their room. In a flustered panic, the canine dive forward.
Crash!
A flame-laden ceiling plank crashed in front of Waylon. The door was blocked. Fearful cries from inside begged for help, but as their sibling looked, there was no other path to take. Beginning to feel nauseous from the smoke, the child could only scream back in misery. Soon the two also became disturbingly quiet.
As the world around him started to cave in and the flames began to singe the hardwood floors, he looked around in defeat. Death had come, but would any help do the same? Anxious eyes surveyed the area, finding nowhere to go… but one place. The corner of their home had yet to be touched. A leather small chair with a sprawled out white blanket on top of it, one he cherished in his childhood, remained peacefully. The area was high enough for him to jump but also avoid the lower flames. Unbeknownst of him, the smoke was a problem.
With no one left and the flicker of the flames growing near, the kid shot towards the chair. Haunches tried to launch him onto it’s surface, but he slipped and claws dragged across the leather. Desperate, he tried again…. and again… and again… until he made it. High and feeling like he escaped, the boy grabbed the blanket. In a swift move, he draped it around himself and covered his head in an attempt to hide. Fate, unfortunately, had a target.
While the flames did not grow near, the smoke did. Already huffing and puffing, Waylon leaned into the chair with tears lining his cheeks and doom creeping in. A ragged wheeze echoed out. While covered by the sound of the whipping flames, anyone who could have heard would have never realized if it was from his newfound trauma or lack of oxygen. Feeling lightheaded, Waylon’s eyes begin to droop. A sense of defeat led them to close.
The flames began to near, but by the time they arrived, the boy’s vision had already gone dark. His breath had begun to slow. A tiny heart’s thump had started to be silenced, no longer pounding in his ears. In time, thoughts passed. Sadness felt irrelevant, only the sensory input that the arriving heat felt appropriate. Waylon could feel everything, yet know nothing.
Fire caved in around him, moving away from the ashes nearby. Some licks began to dissipate into nothingness, fading into the sky as dark smoke. Others, a very small few, headed towards Waylon to pick up what remained. Small flames started to crawl up from the floor and onto the legs of the chair, only to slowly move up the leather. The large cloth atop of Waylon hissed as it burned, leaving the singed bottom underneath the boy’s body to be dealt with. Leather went ahead to become liquid, searing and sizzling around the child. A portion gathered nearby his face, sticking to it and seared his flesh. Unconscious and unable to express his sorrow, there was nothing more to do than experience the pain.
Shock caused his body to come to a instantaneous stop. Not a racing thought, nor a single worry, came to mind. Death had captured not only his family, but HIM.
[align=center][table][tr]
[td][/td]
[td][/td]
[/tr][/table]
[td][/td]
[td][/td]
[/tr][/table]
[glow=#000,2,300]waylon[/glow]
[glow=#000,2,300]member of the pitt — he/him — [glow=#000,2,300]tags[/glow]