04-21-2018, 01:07 AM
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Tourture. She feels something sick and twisted- something honnest and brutal curl on the tip of her throat. It reminds her of the first time she put a prisoner on desplay for her clanamtes amusement. How she took claws of the corpses she let her special presioner see her make. Smeared them in ink and painted her canvas. Ironically enough, it looked just like her mother. If only the eyes were slightly off. A prettyer shade of green. She idly wonders if anyone noticed.
Argus was born without moral, without the careful will that other clans were taught. She was never taught that life was important, that life had meaning. She was taught the difference between ally and enemy was scent, and that scent did not matter if wronged you. However, she was always taught there were worse ways than simply killing someone. She was raised drinking the blood of her parent's failures, and bathing in the isolation they forced upon her at a young age. She wasn't callous as a child, but she was... odd More so than the other kids there. Happy and bubbly, she was eager and she was ruthless. She was eerie and she was always- always a step away from snapping at the next pitting looked directed at her.
She was born in bloodclan, but the first time the clan ever saw her- ever made aware of her presence; She was freshly turned six moons old, crying with blood staining her paws. She was crying because there was no one to celebrate her birthday with her beside the corpse of a fresh kill. The first meal she didn't have to hunt for herself. A Grandfather- distant but smiling and whole and there but- distant. It was the first time she showed herself to her clan, and honestly, she shouldn't be surprised when nothing happened. Nothing but gossip. sad kid. Won't last the week. s h e p r o o v e d t h e m w r o n g.
Whisper was terribly- terribly lonely. But she was spiteful, she was happy and always two steps from the first line she should never have been close to crossing.
Clan mentality was a lot like pack mentality. The thought that they needed each other. And they did, they survived better together, but in her upbringing, she knew the core of being alone. Even within the midst of a crowd, she knew it better than any friend she had had. Being alone was a choice, and even as she chose differently- even now she still felt it's gentle caress.
It was that same presence that pressed down now. Making it hard for the striker to breathe between as Killua threw the accusation. It was in his voice too, isolation. More pieces clicking slowly into place the longer they talked. She wondered- what kind of person she sounded like now. A monster? A Lonely immortal? Neither was wrong but- not entirely true either.
She wondered how he would respond if she told him that they were not that far off. Maybe in another life, they could be friends; But argus now was volatile and greedy, and when she saw someone like her, she could bearly restrain herself from uttering you are mine.
It was not spite that lead her to want a family, nor desperation. Maybe parts of each, distaste for her own mother's abandonment. Her own experience living on the cusps of socialization- of sanity. Argus showed her spite for her mother by abandoning the last names she gave her. She showed her desperation by clinging to life, no matter how badly she wanted to let go.
She shook her head softly, an approving smile stretching across her maw. Now matter how dull her eyes looked. What it hid desperation, hope, spite, anger, insanity- they were ways to the soul. When she stared in the clear reflection of killua's gaze- the dead stared back. "I do not want you to know who i used to be. The memories you lost i doubt i could gather for you, but-" Argus knew of distrust, and while it was the shawl for which Killua wore now, it was not what she saw. Not what she was appealing to now. Trust was given with action over words. That would never change.
"Before, i was blinded with hate. Fuled with my own ego and power- seeing you on the border with my son dying. I should have looked past what i saw. Because you later explained to me that you were the only one in the rotten place who stood up for my son. Not only that- you tempered me. Made me realize it is not only my power that decides a victory. For that- I never got to thank you. You have helped me in a way that i didn't see until you were but a ghost-like my son." Argus explained, letting her maw twist into a grimace at her own words- speaking of her own folly's was never something she liked to do- speaking of her past was one of the things she forbid herself from drifting on, but what she spoke was the truth. "You did not kill my son. You showed more emotion more care. An assassin, then a pro-clan who proudly defended peace. Don't you think that's twisted?" The grin on her expression twisted, and her eyes flashed to the late riverside leader. "This is me returning the favor. Prooving to you that a beast, made of the shadows of their bloodlust- can help too"
As much as she needed to say it- he needed to hear it as well. Because isolation such as his was clearly self-imposed. The blood staining his fur pink he did not even glance at since she saw him. Disgust rolled off of him in waves. Trying to be something he desperately wanted to be- to be born the different way. Argus knew. In her darkest, she had not had anyone there to tell her this. But she was going to try to be better than her elders. Better than all those who wronged her- and maybe that was a better revenge than simply killing them. Letting them see they would not sway her. They would not sway him.
Argus does not try an attempt to fill his mind with platitudes to reassure him. Simply offering the other a smirk even as he turned away in distress from whatever stress going on in his head. "I wouldn't have approached you if I was not ready to do whatever in my power to help." There was a challenge set in her words, but it was pushed away as she moved carefully to sircle the domestic. Her large frame blocking out the cold wherever she shifted. "Can you answer a few questions for me, or is us talking makeing it worse? Would you like to stop now? I can come by later if you think you can control yourself around your clanmates with this." While it would be better to be rid of it now- she knew better than to try and order him. Choices were ideal. Choices that the voice did not give him, would help turn the tide in her favor at least and ground him in his current situation now, rather than focousing on the claws ripping his control from him mentally.
/ finaLLY DONE
[W]isker
Argus was born without moral, without the careful will that other clans were taught. She was never taught that life was important, that life had meaning. She was taught the difference between ally and enemy was scent, and that scent did not matter if wronged you. However, she was always taught there were worse ways than simply killing someone. She was raised drinking the blood of her parent's failures, and bathing in the isolation they forced upon her at a young age. She wasn't callous as a child, but she was... odd More so than the other kids there. Happy and bubbly, she was eager and she was ruthless. She was eerie and she was always- always a step away from snapping at the next pitting looked directed at her.
She was born in bloodclan, but the first time the clan ever saw her- ever made aware of her presence; She was freshly turned six moons old, crying with blood staining her paws. She was crying because there was no one to celebrate her birthday with her beside the corpse of a fresh kill. The first meal she didn't have to hunt for herself. A Grandfather- distant but smiling and whole and there but- distant. It was the first time she showed herself to her clan, and honestly, she shouldn't be surprised when nothing happened. Nothing but gossip. sad kid. Won't last the week. s h e p r o o v e d t h e m w r o n g.
Whisper was terribly- terribly lonely. But she was spiteful, she was happy and always two steps from the first line she should never have been close to crossing.
Clan mentality was a lot like pack mentality. The thought that they needed each other. And they did, they survived better together, but in her upbringing, she knew the core of being alone. Even within the midst of a crowd, she knew it better than any friend she had had. Being alone was a choice, and even as she chose differently- even now she still felt it's gentle caress.
It was that same presence that pressed down now. Making it hard for the striker to breathe between as Killua threw the accusation. It was in his voice too, isolation. More pieces clicking slowly into place the longer they talked. She wondered- what kind of person she sounded like now. A monster? A Lonely immortal? Neither was wrong but- not entirely true either.
She wondered how he would respond if she told him that they were not that far off. Maybe in another life, they could be friends; But argus now was volatile and greedy, and when she saw someone like her, she could bearly restrain herself from uttering you are mine.
It was not spite that lead her to want a family, nor desperation. Maybe parts of each, distaste for her own mother's abandonment. Her own experience living on the cusps of socialization- of sanity. Argus showed her spite for her mother by abandoning the last names she gave her. She showed her desperation by clinging to life, no matter how badly she wanted to let go.
She shook her head softly, an approving smile stretching across her maw. Now matter how dull her eyes looked. What it hid desperation, hope, spite, anger, insanity- they were ways to the soul. When she stared in the clear reflection of killua's gaze- the dead stared back. "I do not want you to know who i used to be. The memories you lost i doubt i could gather for you, but-" Argus knew of distrust, and while it was the shawl for which Killua wore now, it was not what she saw. Not what she was appealing to now. Trust was given with action over words. That would never change.
"Before, i was blinded with hate. Fuled with my own ego and power- seeing you on the border with my son dying. I should have looked past what i saw. Because you later explained to me that you were the only one in the rotten place who stood up for my son. Not only that- you tempered me. Made me realize it is not only my power that decides a victory. For that- I never got to thank you. You have helped me in a way that i didn't see until you were but a ghost-like my son." Argus explained, letting her maw twist into a grimace at her own words- speaking of her own folly's was never something she liked to do- speaking of her past was one of the things she forbid herself from drifting on, but what she spoke was the truth. "You did not kill my son. You showed more emotion more care. An assassin, then a pro-clan who proudly defended peace. Don't you think that's twisted?" The grin on her expression twisted, and her eyes flashed to the late riverside leader. "This is me returning the favor. Prooving to you that a beast, made of the shadows of their bloodlust- can help too"
As much as she needed to say it- he needed to hear it as well. Because isolation such as his was clearly self-imposed. The blood staining his fur pink he did not even glance at since she saw him. Disgust rolled off of him in waves. Trying to be something he desperately wanted to be- to be born the different way. Argus knew. In her darkest, she had not had anyone there to tell her this. But she was going to try to be better than her elders. Better than all those who wronged her- and maybe that was a better revenge than simply killing them. Letting them see they would not sway her. They would not sway him.
Argus does not try an attempt to fill his mind with platitudes to reassure him. Simply offering the other a smirk even as he turned away in distress from whatever stress going on in his head. "I wouldn't have approached you if I was not ready to do whatever in my power to help." There was a challenge set in her words, but it was pushed away as she moved carefully to sircle the domestic. Her large frame blocking out the cold wherever she shifted. "Can you answer a few questions for me, or is us talking makeing it worse? Would you like to stop now? I can come by later if you think you can control yourself around your clanmates with this." While it would be better to be rid of it now- she knew better than to try and order him. Choices were ideal. Choices that the voice did not give him, would help turn the tide in her favor at least and ground him in his current situation now, rather than focousing on the claws ripping his control from him mentally.
/ finaLLY DONE
[W]isker