11-12-2018, 09:17 PM
ament does not like barracuda bay.
The place is populated, and while he is equally mystified by his typhoon he is enraged by it. They are a group of predictors and their stare is meant to be piercing, like fangs and claws they all are made to hunt and kill and ament feel's each fang slice into his pelt with the stares. He knows it is belittlement that worries their brow collectively. They think because a savage cannot understand them that he does not know them. But he does- he knows they are collectively his and his siblings like this land. His to understand and his to dissect as he pleases. He does not, care for the stares, and on pricipal sticks more to the jungle than he does the bay and more populated areas.
Today, is different.
He stands tall and proud, flexing and fluffing, with strides that take up the size of some of his mere typhooner's form. With grace he walks with purpose he does not know but feels. The great beast of the venadi do not hesitate. Even the omega like him is mear gods compared to the kind that walk. Ancient and absolute, with commands given out by his own whims and wants rather than a need for sense.
He spots the kitten, small and unimposeing, wide eyes staring at the black marble that sits along the bay. Ament is mystified by it- wants to know it's origions- both the kitten that sits before it and the statue. But he does not ask, cannot ask. The black faced terror comes to still beside the statue- beside the character and let's out a low chittering, museum to himself while letting soft vocalizations to ease anyone else to gather near him. Let's make a spectacle of it- and maybe someone will explain either or.
The place is populated, and while he is equally mystified by his typhoon he is enraged by it. They are a group of predictors and their stare is meant to be piercing, like fangs and claws they all are made to hunt and kill and ament feel's each fang slice into his pelt with the stares. He knows it is belittlement that worries their brow collectively. They think because a savage cannot understand them that he does not know them. But he does- he knows they are collectively his and his siblings like this land. His to understand and his to dissect as he pleases. He does not, care for the stares, and on pricipal sticks more to the jungle than he does the bay and more populated areas.
Today, is different.
He stands tall and proud, flexing and fluffing, with strides that take up the size of some of his mere typhooner's form. With grace he walks with purpose he does not know but feels. The great beast of the venadi do not hesitate. Even the omega like him is mear gods compared to the kind that walk. Ancient and absolute, with commands given out by his own whims and wants rather than a need for sense.
He spots the kitten, small and unimposeing, wide eyes staring at the black marble that sits along the bay. Ament is mystified by it- wants to know it's origions- both the kitten that sits before it and the statue. But he does not ask, cannot ask. The black faced terror comes to still beside the statue- beside the character and let's out a low chittering, museum to himself while letting soft vocalizations to ease anyone else to gather near him. Let's make a spectacle of it- and maybe someone will explain either or.
ɪ'ᴍ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs / ʏᴏᴜ ᴅʀᴀɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ
made by wisker
I LET THE ANGER GO—
AND MOTHER NATURE FOUND IT'S PLACE
AND MOTHER NATURE FOUND IT'S PLACE