07-26-2018, 12:21 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/ UH i don’t currently have wifi so this is written on mobile lmfao sorry for any mistakes or awkwardness, i just needed a more solid reason for him to not be around for a few more days
+ please wait for alloy to post with gabriel!
The first day Lazarus had really spent with Gabriel ended when everyone the Cane Corso had ever bowed his head to started decomposing. From the older street kid he’d ended up cornering him with (looking back, it wasn’t really cornering, was it?) to the one that kept it all running, not many people survived that day. It had taught him a strange lesson in all of that chaos: know when you’ve lost; know who to how your head to. He thought it’d have been the last he’d learn, but as he sat there watching blood dry, he’d learned another. Quieter, deeper. For the first time in a lifetime, he was allowed to put down roots. Not too deep, sorta vulnerable — one of those saplings that needed something sturdy to make sure they grew up right. Or at all. Kinda figures that it’d all come back to burn down what little progresss he’d made. He’s never fit in here, but it can’t be that awful for him to try, right?
Maybe it’s a little dumb for someone who fought for food and life and a place to sleep, who’d earned everything he’d ever gotten, but Laz felt shy for lack of a better word. Where Lazarus grew up with chaos, they put themselves into neat little blocks, earned their livelihoods through calm, organied patience. He wonders if anyone here had ever felt the aggressive ambition that still beats in his chest some days. Life here must’ve gotten to him despite all the differences, though. He doesn’t see any of it coming like he should have.
Mealtime is usually when he’s most alert, but teeth sinking into his scruff is a surprise. His head jerks back painfully to lessen the pull on his throat. Something smelling disgustingly of spoiled meat and rot drags him to his feet and then farther, pressure and weight. His lifecpressed between someone else’s teeth. The dog snarls, the noise scraping like sandpaper up his throat as he twists out of it and back to the ground (through might be a better way to word that, with the harsh red lines it leaves on his neck), only to find a ready weight rushing in and knocking him back to the ground. Like they were waiting for him to turn and fight. Like they knew he would. ”Diablo,” the voice laughs, sounds friendly even when he’s seeing white.
The boy staggers to his feet and spins, skin prickling from the nickname. He draws himself in, readying for another spring, and he looks every bit like he’d earned the name then, bristling and almost foaming at the mouth, white teeth against stark black. He hesitates before he can move, just for a second. Staring back at him is a scarred mass of memories, jagged, yellow grin and coat flecked with layers of all things disgusting. Instead of heeding the ancient lesson of knowing when to back down, he rushes again. In an instant, just when his mouth watered at the idea of sinking in (of winning) his jaws clip shut on nothing, and his back hits the ground with a yelp that nears a scream. The pain doesn’t register as impact, but also not as the sharp pressure of teeth or claws. As he rolls to his stomach, tries to breathe, he sees it coming this time. The blow, careless yet methodical, lands across his face. He hisses with the sting but can’t even find his feet in time. The beating continues for a while, to the point that Laz loses count of the bruises he’ll have if he makes it to tomorrow.
”How lucky must I be, eh? Pensamos que estabas muerto, chico. With everyone else who died, you shoulda been.” He’s right, he bought it was his turn after he’d seen blood from everyone who’d fed him, thumped his back, beat him down. Instead, Gabe had just — helped. Nobody looked st the kids on the street corners, nobody gave a shit if they lived. Everyone thought they deserved it, or that’s what it felt like. What had started as fear for what the hybrid could do grew into some kinda hope, a timid flame no bigger than a candle’s, one that wavers but still burns all these months later. ”Since you’re not, it’s got me thinking. You sell us out, Laz?” A paw stays heavy between his antlers, keeping his mouth in the dirt and the short grass against his nose, but the dog struggles up just enough.
”Wish I would’ve,” he pants out, muffled but loud. Defiant.
The teeth that sink into his left antler feel more like God’s retributation than anything a mortal could ever do. It wasn’t quite fall yet and it was still soft, still bled. There was a sickening crack, and the pain — that’s always the hardest part to describe. It shoots from his head straight to his chest; if there was any air left there, he might’ve screamed. When the teeth release their hold on him, his head drops back to the dust and stays there.
”I’ll have to go find your friend once I’m done with you.”
[align=right]—— [url=https://beastsofbeyond.com/index.php?topic=2939.msg22800#msg22800]TEMP TAGS
+ please wait for alloy to post with gabriel!
The first day Lazarus had really spent with Gabriel ended when everyone the Cane Corso had ever bowed his head to started decomposing. From the older street kid he’d ended up cornering him with (looking back, it wasn’t really cornering, was it?) to the one that kept it all running, not many people survived that day. It had taught him a strange lesson in all of that chaos: know when you’ve lost; know who to how your head to. He thought it’d have been the last he’d learn, but as he sat there watching blood dry, he’d learned another. Quieter, deeper. For the first time in a lifetime, he was allowed to put down roots. Not too deep, sorta vulnerable — one of those saplings that needed something sturdy to make sure they grew up right. Or at all. Kinda figures that it’d all come back to burn down what little progresss he’d made. He’s never fit in here, but it can’t be that awful for him to try, right?
Maybe it’s a little dumb for someone who fought for food and life and a place to sleep, who’d earned everything he’d ever gotten, but Laz felt shy for lack of a better word. Where Lazarus grew up with chaos, they put themselves into neat little blocks, earned their livelihoods through calm, organied patience. He wonders if anyone here had ever felt the aggressive ambition that still beats in his chest some days. Life here must’ve gotten to him despite all the differences, though. He doesn’t see any of it coming like he should have.
Mealtime is usually when he’s most alert, but teeth sinking into his scruff is a surprise. His head jerks back painfully to lessen the pull on his throat. Something smelling disgustingly of spoiled meat and rot drags him to his feet and then farther, pressure and weight. His lifecpressed between someone else’s teeth. The dog snarls, the noise scraping like sandpaper up his throat as he twists out of it and back to the ground (through might be a better way to word that, with the harsh red lines it leaves on his neck), only to find a ready weight rushing in and knocking him back to the ground. Like they were waiting for him to turn and fight. Like they knew he would. ”Diablo,” the voice laughs, sounds friendly even when he’s seeing white.
The boy staggers to his feet and spins, skin prickling from the nickname. He draws himself in, readying for another spring, and he looks every bit like he’d earned the name then, bristling and almost foaming at the mouth, white teeth against stark black. He hesitates before he can move, just for a second. Staring back at him is a scarred mass of memories, jagged, yellow grin and coat flecked with layers of all things disgusting. Instead of heeding the ancient lesson of knowing when to back down, he rushes again. In an instant, just when his mouth watered at the idea of sinking in (of winning) his jaws clip shut on nothing, and his back hits the ground with a yelp that nears a scream. The pain doesn’t register as impact, but also not as the sharp pressure of teeth or claws. As he rolls to his stomach, tries to breathe, he sees it coming this time. The blow, careless yet methodical, lands across his face. He hisses with the sting but can’t even find his feet in time. The beating continues for a while, to the point that Laz loses count of the bruises he’ll have if he makes it to tomorrow.
”How lucky must I be, eh? Pensamos que estabas muerto, chico. With everyone else who died, you shoulda been.” He’s right, he bought it was his turn after he’d seen blood from everyone who’d fed him, thumped his back, beat him down. Instead, Gabe had just — helped. Nobody looked st the kids on the street corners, nobody gave a shit if they lived. Everyone thought they deserved it, or that’s what it felt like. What had started as fear for what the hybrid could do grew into some kinda hope, a timid flame no bigger than a candle’s, one that wavers but still burns all these months later. ”Since you’re not, it’s got me thinking. You sell us out, Laz?” A paw stays heavy between his antlers, keeping his mouth in the dirt and the short grass against his nose, but the dog struggles up just enough.
”Wish I would’ve,” he pants out, muffled but loud. Defiant.
The teeth that sink into his left antler feel more like God’s retributation than anything a mortal could ever do. It wasn’t quite fall yet and it was still soft, still bled. There was a sickening crack, and the pain — that’s always the hardest part to describe. It shoots from his head straight to his chest; if there was any air left there, he might’ve screamed. When the teeth release their hold on him, his head drops back to the dust and stays there.
”I’ll have to go find your friend once I’m done with you.”
[align=right]—— [url=https://beastsofbeyond.com/index.php?topic=2939.msg22800#msg22800]TEMP TAGS
[align=center]
｢ GRAVE DIGGER, GRAVE DIGGER. [url=https://beastsofbeyond.com/index.php?topic=7333.msg48711#msg48711]INFO. ｣