07-27-2018, 08:51 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]The pain from before hitting the ground hardly even registered now. Long, thin cuts from raking claws, or sharp punctures from various sets of teeth — Gaatkaaras is used to pain, but the extent of the injures this time burns in a way it hasn’t before. The worst is his wing. Fire and needles pulse throughout the webbing when he tries to fold it into his body, a low, unhappy noise rising involuntarily from his own throat. Even without medical training, he’d figured out quickly that something was broken, and the torn webbing was on display for the entire world. That alone is enough to put the creature on edge, the drips of blood to the ground. He has no ears to perk up or fur to bristle, but his rib cage expands quick and harsh, obvious even when he tries to slow it, and his neck draws up as if prepared to strike. Gaat looks like something out of a fairytale for a moment, with the sun shining down through storm clouds, but it was as if he was born in the wrong side of the shield. Judging by the reactions and appearances of the few people he’d found out here so far, most of them having promptly scattered at the sight of him, he sticks out like a wolf among sheep.
He shouldn’t have left. The doubts that had been dogging him for so long could have easily been cured, and that life was undeniably the better option. The more familiar one. Here, the black tattoos standing starkly against his ashen-grey hide are more of a burden than a promise. Still, he won’t remove them. Even marred with blood and rain, they still mean too much. He would have to find someone trusted to reapply them later, but for now, he would settle with the memories of their destruction, much like his own injuries. Both quickly become too much to bear when combined, and although lost and tense, Gaatkaaras sinks slowly to the ground until he’s sitting, however awkwardly, with his whiplash tail hitting the ground with a thump and long neck dipping closer to his body until his head rests near his chest. His injured wing stays awkwardly extended with the occasional pained flutter, some hopeless attempt at extending it or folding it, but otherwise he finds himself too exhausted — both mentally and physically — to do anything more than wait for the owners of this land to question him.
He’s been around long enough to know that no ground comes without claim.
/ today on “rev tries to write crappy mobile posts”
+ a deer thing will show up eventually, hence the title, but you don’t have to wait for him lmao
He shouldn’t have left. The doubts that had been dogging him for so long could have easily been cured, and that life was undeniably the better option. The more familiar one. Here, the black tattoos standing starkly against his ashen-grey hide are more of a burden than a promise. Still, he won’t remove them. Even marred with blood and rain, they still mean too much. He would have to find someone trusted to reapply them later, but for now, he would settle with the memories of their destruction, much like his own injuries. Both quickly become too much to bear when combined, and although lost and tense, Gaatkaaras sinks slowly to the ground until he’s sitting, however awkwardly, with his whiplash tail hitting the ground with a thump and long neck dipping closer to his body until his head rests near his chest. His injured wing stays awkwardly extended with the occasional pained flutter, some hopeless attempt at extending it or folding it, but otherwise he finds himself too exhausted — both mentally and physically — to do anything more than wait for the owners of this land to question him.
He’s been around long enough to know that no ground comes without claim.
/ today on “rev tries to write crappy mobile posts”
+ a deer thing will show up eventually, hence the title, but you don’t have to wait for him lmao
[align=center]
[b]｢ EVERYBODY KNOWS THE GOOD GUYS LOST ｣