both of their heads felt dizzy and lightheaded at once. they ache with somber wariness, leaving them weak and tired. their heart was already beginning to speed up, ready to issue a lazy orchestra of heart beats ringing within their two sets of soft, velvety ears. it was with great and utter inner will that forced the beating heart to a crawl.
a wolf pup. comparatively small in relation to moribund's long limbed frame, though they were a predator, and far well fed than the mutated beast who had been wandering within the desert for far too long. they were not built for the unerring cruelty of the world. so weak were they, that all they had been good for was to be guided like the sheep they were. even within the company of their herd, the numbers within their family was what had kept them safe. so long as they did not raise a bleat against their kin in protest to the punishment, the sin of their abominable appearance would not be rewarded with exile.
that deal now, however, was as good as gone. their mother could stand the sight of the horrid child no longer. their disownment was a death sentence. power was in numbers. numbers was in family. the world was no place for a lone sheep. especially one such as themselves, with two wretched heads.
but their exile was well deserved. nothing could atone for their sin of being born.
the right head's gaze was almost wild; flickering over the lupis child with an urgent sense of feverish cunningness glinting in that guarded, hooded gaze. the left head, however, merely squinted at the dweller, unable to speak for the merest. their tongue caught in their tongue. was it fear?
they finally find the courage to respond, swallowing thickly down one of their throats.
"we do not think... we are owned by anyone," the voice is raspy. softened with youth yet still rough like sandpaper skin. affected by disuse. 'ownership' over another was a foreign concept, and moribund had no complete knowledge of what it entailed. they weren't so sure if they wanted to find out.
the attention directed towards their being is more than they'd like to bear. there is water, brought by another wolf. the presence of two potential lethal threats sends both of their heads reeling with a desperate pang of fear, yet their visage remains stiff and solid on the outside. forced into rigidness. despite their hunger and exhaustion and thirstiness they cannot bring themself to drink it at first. what if it's poisoned?
'they would not bring you all this way just to poison you... would they?'
they cannot comprehend nor quill or tsuyu's subtle act of kindness. their mind dives towards all the ways they can be harmed with their kind offerings. they both cannot help it-- it is within their inner nature. they have learned that trouble follows them wherever they go.
one weary gaze slips towards the ground. lowered in defeat and submission. they have long ago learned to avoid further agony by tucking their tail between their legs and offering themselves wholly to the victor without struggle, though the right head wishes to lash out with bared jaws and a square teeth. it is a condition of learned helplessness.
they refuse to take from the offered water. they remain outwardly stiff. a sign of hesitance unnoticeable to the untrained eye.
"where are we?"
a wolf pup. comparatively small in relation to moribund's long limbed frame, though they were a predator, and far well fed than the mutated beast who had been wandering within the desert for far too long. they were not built for the unerring cruelty of the world. so weak were they, that all they had been good for was to be guided like the sheep they were. even within the company of their herd, the numbers within their family was what had kept them safe. so long as they did not raise a bleat against their kin in protest to the punishment, the sin of their abominable appearance would not be rewarded with exile.
that deal now, however, was as good as gone. their mother could stand the sight of the horrid child no longer. their disownment was a death sentence. power was in numbers. numbers was in family. the world was no place for a lone sheep. especially one such as themselves, with two wretched heads.
but their exile was well deserved. nothing could atone for their sin of being born.
the right head's gaze was almost wild; flickering over the lupis child with an urgent sense of feverish cunningness glinting in that guarded, hooded gaze. the left head, however, merely squinted at the dweller, unable to speak for the merest. their tongue caught in their tongue. was it fear?
they finally find the courage to respond, swallowing thickly down one of their throats.
"we do not think... we are owned by anyone," the voice is raspy. softened with youth yet still rough like sandpaper skin. affected by disuse. 'ownership' over another was a foreign concept, and moribund had no complete knowledge of what it entailed. they weren't so sure if they wanted to find out.
the attention directed towards their being is more than they'd like to bear. there is water, brought by another wolf. the presence of two potential lethal threats sends both of their heads reeling with a desperate pang of fear, yet their visage remains stiff and solid on the outside. forced into rigidness. despite their hunger and exhaustion and thirstiness they cannot bring themself to drink it at first. what if it's poisoned?
'they would not bring you all this way just to poison you... would they?'
they cannot comprehend nor quill or tsuyu's subtle act of kindness. their mind dives towards all the ways they can be harmed with their kind offerings. they both cannot help it-- it is within their inner nature. they have learned that trouble follows them wherever they go.
one weary gaze slips towards the ground. lowered in defeat and submission. they have long ago learned to avoid further agony by tucking their tail between their legs and offering themselves wholly to the victor without struggle, though the right head wishes to lash out with bared jaws and a square teeth. it is a condition of learned helplessness.
they refuse to take from the offered water. they remain outwardly stiff. a sign of hesitance unnoticeable to the untrained eye.
"where are we?"
[glow=grey,2,300]— ✘ —[/glow]
[align=center][div style="font-size:10pt;color:black;font-family: arialblack; 1px;"]CONSTANTLY CONSUMING , CONQUER AND DEVOUR[div style="font-size:8pt;line-height:.1.5;color:black;font-family:arial;margin-bottom:5px;margin-top:-2px"]THE PITT —— 9 MOONS ･✦——TAGS