10-10-2018, 09:40 PM
amongst the din of battle, they did not notice luca until the other was upon them, whispering faux, honeyed words. how could they have noticed? they were ignorant as always. they were born useless and cursed, and will always be useless and cursed.
moribund's left head stiffens. they know this tune. they remember days of silver tongues and dialogue sweet as honey, made to entice and lead them in. those days, back in the herd. when their siblings were cold and callous and knew how to back mori into a corner, how to swindle favors from the freak until their kin abandoned their meticulous, careful games and gave in to the cruelty of the parents, to the thoughtless ruthlesness.
it does nothing to soothe them.
'come here, honey. don't worry. i won't hurt you,' used time and time again before the beatings came. knocked senseless and body painted beautiful and ugly shades of red among the black of their pelts. moribund obeyed time and time again because that was all they ever knew how to do. obey.
the words wrack a quiver down their spine, and their legs lock with the muscle memory of tensing every muscle in their body as the blows rain down. in their mind, surely luca will do the same to them. when will the beatings come?
they're expecting it this time, when the canine lunges. it instills a fire in their burbling guts. not the good type.
the right barely notices when the teeth sink in. their skin has gone numb, and the venom seeps into their veins like winter chill, working it's awful magic. somehow, they succumb even more to paralysis. the right head wants to guard themselves-- where did this sense of self preservation come from? they do not know it, nor do they notice it.
their body slowly falls limp.
moribund's left head stiffens. they know this tune. they remember days of silver tongues and dialogue sweet as honey, made to entice and lead them in. those days, back in the herd. when their siblings were cold and callous and knew how to back mori into a corner, how to swindle favors from the freak until their kin abandoned their meticulous, careful games and gave in to the cruelty of the parents, to the thoughtless ruthlesness.
it does nothing to soothe them.
'come here, honey. don't worry. i won't hurt you,' used time and time again before the beatings came. knocked senseless and body painted beautiful and ugly shades of red among the black of their pelts. moribund obeyed time and time again because that was all they ever knew how to do. obey.
the words wrack a quiver down their spine, and their legs lock with the muscle memory of tensing every muscle in their body as the blows rain down. in their mind, surely luca will do the same to them. when will the beatings come?
they're expecting it this time, when the canine lunges. it instills a fire in their burbling guts. not the good type.
the right barely notices when the teeth sink in. their skin has gone numb, and the venom seeps into their veins like winter chill, working it's awful magic. somehow, they succumb even more to paralysis. the right head wants to guard themselves-- where did this sense of self preservation come from? they do not know it, nor do they notice it.
their body slowly falls limp.
[glow=grey,2,300]･ﾟ✦ —— tags[/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