LAND SHARKS? // o, paranoia

[Crow Roux]

[align=center]action — "speech" — thoughts

PHYSICALLY HARD | MENTALLY MEDIUM | MAGICALLY MEDIUM | ATTACK IN [b]#757f96[/b]

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      By the time anyone got to him, Alice had already fallen into the abysmal rabbit hole that was the conscious mind. For some, that hole was anxiety, or intrusive thoughts, but for Crow, that was when everything went totally completely wrong. It was when the shadows behind his flowerpots started to dance in the evening sun, whispering to him unpleasant words. It was when he began to lose track of time and sense of what he was doing.

      The attenuated feline's joints became wobbly, and he felt himself sink under the crippling weight of his form. Every piece of his mortal being was screaming at him to run far, far away into the endless forest around him, but the minuscule amount of sense that resided inside of him told him no. He would not make it far before he collapsed from exhaustion.

      Crow's crimson-tinged paws found their way to his snout, and his claws began to flex upon his skin in an almost mechanical fashion. It was as if, if he did it hard enough, methodologically enough, the pain would bring his mind back. He was overwhelmed, and he wanted everything to cease.

      Voices pierced through to the feline's consciousness, but he barely heard it.

"What happened?"

                "Do you need help?"

      Soon, more voices would join, and Crow's ears would release themselves from the grips of his no longer busy toes. It was as if the presence of familiar sounds and sights released him from the physical torment, but deep inside his head was still a tempest of instability. His lips parted with a mousy wail, and then he began to speak in a hushed voice.

      "T-they sme-elled it, the blood. I made a big, big me-ess..." The words started to fall out of his mouth, growing in volume and speed in crescendo and stumbling into each other like a drunken crowd. "I screwed u-up b-bad... I-it's all o-over me!"

      At this point, Crow was purely mad. There was absolutely no one coming, and no one ever would come, but Crow had convinced himself that a hoard of beings deep inside of the swamp smelled his dumb nosebleed.

      "I'm so-orry..."

      His eyes welled with tears as he took a tentative glance around. How pitiful he was, cowered on his rooftop with a crime scene for an anterior and tears rolling off of his cheeks. It was almost laughable.