SUNSHINE // intro

[MORIBUND]

it is entirely instinct to fold in on themselves with compliance. though their body is weak, their soul is not easily shattered. they have gone through hell; felt the lash of pain more times than they can count, and have known not to expect anything else. there's always agony lying around the corner. the only thing they have learned is that complete and utter obedience determines how long this pain lasts. their defense mechanism; shortening the pain.

they are ignorant, and wholly uneducated, but moribund is no pushover.

the moment the wolf pup establishes the need for strong slaves, healthy slaves, it becomes apparently clear that there is no need to retain the feeble skin they carelessly shrugged on the moment they arrived. though their doubts about the offered food and water still lingered, to contain to needlessly deepening their deflated physique would get them nowhere.

with the uttered words, the lamb shed their hunched and humbled mannerism like a second skin and stretched, seeming to recoup an inch or two with their adjusted posture. spine, no longer aching with the meek and unassertive stance, gave a cadenced flex in their relief. their form was in no way intimidating or imposing, though it felt relieving to tower over the other two.

the cat that had been quiet before-- the felidae of alarming shade of green was the next one to speak up. she had come to moribund with the attention of telling the child straight-- only her words sounded redundant; a rehashed lecture in the form of a threat. the only new thing that had been passed on to the newly found slave was the issuing of a name.

blacktide.

the lamb barely had any time to ponder over it, absorbing the fellow slave's words. why the hybrid had mentioned lack of poison in the water, moribund wasn't too sure. they had been thinking it, but the youth was notoriously careful about revealing their inner emotions and thoughts. nothing good ever came of having opinions, as they had learned long ago. a single set smoldering gaze of citrine ice drifted over their body, wandering to places where phantoms of bruises still lingered.

the message was clear. you either learned to be resilient or die. that was the ultimatum that had been proposed and echoed by the two pittians.

durable. could they be durable? all moribund ever knew was how to be subservient. how to take pain and bite it back down. roll with the punches. never drawing attention to themselves. always bending to the will of the one in power like a tree against strong wind. breaking, but never bending.

that's all they've ever known. but they will learn. they will try.

threats and intimidation are not a foreign concept to the children. moribund found the origins akin to a boogieman story; if they were not good (or in this case, not useful), they would be gobbled up. did they fear death? they'd been subject to ruthless discipline; bones cracking under the blow of many hooves. beaten black and blue. but death was permanent. death was...

an escape.

while the child's first half pondered this shallowly, the body of union felt their veins bubbling and roiling with annoyance and agitation. the left head was unreactive, yet the right was thrumming with a slow, sluggish anger with the thought that anyone would try to cow them with such a tripe fate-- a mercy. always the more violent of the two. the more volatile, simmering with pent up, seething emotions. briefly the child directs a furtive look towards their other half, gaze lidded with indecipherable concern, before turning towards the two once more.

"yea?" the first head mutters, voice still soft yet burlesque. "we think we already understand the point," they do not address the unsuccessful attempt at menace. they are used to dealing with the threat of sudden demise; should only hope that their end would come fairly swift. do not let a flicker of fear or unease flicker across their outward facade or betray their true mood.

the left head relents first, sacrificing nonexistent pride, and stretching forth the first neck to lap at the water. the second head does not follow suit. does not need to. though their throat will be parched for the rest of the day, they both share a stomach, and they know they will be fine. to put both heads down, baring their neck for the world with their eyes cast away from what they know to be enemies-- it goes against their very nature. they have learnt wariness the hard way. trust no one.

[glow=grey,2,300]— ✘ —[/glow]