09-18-2018, 05:04 PM
[size=9pt]Moon was the fool who came running no matter who it was who called.
'Stupid boy thinks he's a hero,' his mother would sneer, and he'd shrink in on himself and tell himself, next time- next time he'd clasp his claws in the dirt and stay put 'till the too-loud sound of suffering faded. But he never did. He never had the self control.
So here he comes, a one-man stampede, propelling himself through the fields because he's got a good nose, and that's blood he smells. That's Oni's scream he hears and it's not the typical snarky bullshit; he knows the voice of someone who just witnessed nightmare material when he hears it. He's heaving in breaths by the time he stumbles through the undergrowth to Onision's side, and only half of his, "What--" slips out before it catches like a fishhook on his tonsils and dies a quick death.
See, they were never really friends. Moon doesn't know much of friendship, but he's pretty sure it goes at least a step further than constant back-and-forward. They could have been. Had he knocked on Bast's door on one of his 3am strolls through the Observatory's halls, it's possible they could have had some weird talk and maybe, possibly, have gotten to like each other. But now he lies before Moon, a cooling corpse, and Moon's seen this too many times. But not enough for him to be properly desensitized. He hasn't hit that sweet spot just yet.
"Fuck. Jesus. Fuck." He hovers near the feline, paws floating in the air above his body helplessly until he finds it in himself to do something. His paws get painted red, lukewarm and sticky in a way that makes him sick, but he presses against the gash that pours, some stupid attempt to piece him back together. 'Quick,' part of him mummers, 'fix him before Hazel gets here.' But there's no helping that gap in his chest. He can only stare through it, a voyeur to the Bast's crimson filling, and suck in steady breaths to fight the nausea that was rising fast. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?" A low whine, quiet and frantic, but there's nothing he can do, and he's starting to realize.
'Stupid boy thinks he's a hero,' his mother would sneer, and he'd shrink in on himself and tell himself, next time- next time he'd clasp his claws in the dirt and stay put 'till the too-loud sound of suffering faded. But he never did. He never had the self control.
So here he comes, a one-man stampede, propelling himself through the fields because he's got a good nose, and that's blood he smells. That's Oni's scream he hears and it's not the typical snarky bullshit; he knows the voice of someone who just witnessed nightmare material when he hears it. He's heaving in breaths by the time he stumbles through the undergrowth to Onision's side, and only half of his, "What--" slips out before it catches like a fishhook on his tonsils and dies a quick death.
See, they were never really friends. Moon doesn't know much of friendship, but he's pretty sure it goes at least a step further than constant back-and-forward. They could have been. Had he knocked on Bast's door on one of his 3am strolls through the Observatory's halls, it's possible they could have had some weird talk and maybe, possibly, have gotten to like each other. But now he lies before Moon, a cooling corpse, and Moon's seen this too many times. But not enough for him to be properly desensitized. He hasn't hit that sweet spot just yet.
"Fuck. Jesus. Fuck." He hovers near the feline, paws floating in the air above his body helplessly until he finds it in himself to do something. His paws get painted red, lukewarm and sticky in a way that makes him sick, but he presses against the gash that pours, some stupid attempt to piece him back together. 'Quick,' part of him mummers, 'fix him before Hazel gets here.' But there's no helping that gap in his chest. He can only stare through it, a voyeur to the Bast's crimson filling, and suck in steady breaths to fight the nausea that was rising fast. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?" A low whine, quiet and frantic, but there's nothing he can do, and he's starting to realize.
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]