08-04-2019, 09:32 PM
[glow=#000,1,400]BUT NOW I UNDERSTAND YOU, AND I WILL NOT BE PART OF YOUR DESIGNS — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]
( 100th post hype woop woop )
Things recently had worn on Wormwood's mental state quite effectively. Whether it be the death of Arrow, the arrival of his mother, Sam being kidnapped, and he recent fight with Draekon, all of it was making every day seem like a slog. Wormwood was comforted by one thing or another occasionally, whether it be the antics of his group mates, or spending a few hours with his brother and just relaxing as they had a nice conversation, but these things were starting to become fewer and farther between. The lion spent a large amount of time out hunting and trying to just find something to occupy his mind. He supposed the death of Arrow had been the start of everything. The senior member's death in front of him had not only knocked the entire community of Tanglewood off balance, but it also made him contemplate his own mortality, as well as Poetking's. He had spent days regretting the decisions he had made with his limited time alive, and he had spent those days holed up in his home, away from where anybody but Poet could access him.
He had then met Draekon, and things had actually looked up for a bit. The other male, despite being a member of the Pitt, made him happy, and made his days seem a little bit less bleak and full of dread. He had spent a lot of time visiting the male and spending hours just laying with him and telling the events of his day. And then, after one fateful visit to Draekon, he had come back only to find out that his Mother was here. Not only was she here, but she was here to join, and to destroy the happiness that he had finally begun to found among those in Tanglewood. This was the point where he had thought that his short adventure in having an actual family and support system was over, but he had been proven wrong. His new friends had stood up for him, and had even given him the courage to finally stand up to Judith and tell her to fuck off. This had filled him with a new sense of delight, and a weird feeling he hadn't felt in a while – or ever, really – self respect. He actually felt like a person, worthy of love from those around him, and from himself.
His Mother was still here even now, but at least she seemed distracted with Poetking, and while he occasionally went to check on Poetking to make sure she wasn't doing anything to his vulnerable brother, he let his Mother's jabs and threats roll off of his shoulders, just snarling back at her and focusing on Poet. However, this newfound sense of tranquility and family only lasted until Sam disappeared, with only the smell of the Pitt left in her wake. He had been terrified for her life, since she had been one of the ones to help him gain confidence against Judith, and he felt a like he owed her something, even more than he already had simply by virtue of being her groupmate. He had decided to go to Draekon to see who had taken her – only to find out that Draekon had been the one to take her. He had been furious, screeching and crying and pushing Draekon away when the other tried to apologize. Draekon had – albeit slowly – explained that while he had been the one to capture her, he hadn't actually wanted her to be hurt. He had refused to torture her himself, and had even tried to help her escape.
Wormwood had still been furious, and told Draekon they were done, but Draekon had stopped and looked at him pleasingly, and Worm had only agreed to stay with Draekon if he never attacked or captured anybody else who smelled like Tanglewood, and would agree to be a spy for him within The Pitt to gather information. He still doubted that it would make anything up to the other Tanglers besides him, but it at least meant that Draekon wouldn't be hurting anyone else, and that they would have a source of inside information for when they finally made their move and attacked.
Even after all of this, the lion still didn't feel like he was helping anyone enough. He wanted to be able to help Tanglewood, and Draekon, and the Typhoon, and Poet, and everybody else that counted on him or trusted him. But he still just felt too weak, especially after what had happened with Vathmos. If he couldn't protect himself from his own groupmates, how was he supposed to protect himself and others from the Pitt? The thoughts of all of this and more were in his head as he laid on the porch of his house, his eyes dark and listless as he thought of how useless he felt right now. His back leg ached where Vathmos had bitten it, as if reminding him of his former failures. He closed his eyes slowly to stop tears from slipping out, his fangs grit and a slight tremor passing through his body as he remembering the crippling, burning electricity that had passed viciously through his body when Vathmos had bitten him.
Slowly, however, the burning began to localize itself to one area – between his shoulder blades. As the pain grew stronger and sharper, he let out a gasp, slowly getting to his trembling paws and choking out softly, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"Stop, stop, stop, please... Selby! Selby, something is wrong with me."[/glow] He called out for the group medic as he attempted to climb off of the porch, but a sharp scream of pain left him and he collapsed down against the ground as the burning became so bad that he felt like vomiting. He laid there on the ground for several minutes, his eyes closed desperately as the pain tore through him, before he suddenly felt a light weight against his back that steadily became heavier. The pain gradually faded with this, and eventually the tears running down his face dried, and he slowly got back up to his feet.
However, the weight on his back hadn't ceased, and he slowly padded over to a semi clean puddle in their camp. His eyes widened as soon as he saw the culprit of both the pain he had experienced and the new source of encumbrance. Huge wings. Crimson and gold wings that were long and wide, with massive feathers and bright colors that matched his default pelt. They were large enough for him to achieve lift-off, and around the base of them was rusty and caked on blood, evidently from his skin tearing and shifting to accommodate the new appendages. He stared at them in gaping shock, a new sense of confusion and surprise gripping his entire form. Just when he had been thinking about needing something new to help defend others, he had grown... these. He wanted to be happy, or impressed, but really all he felt was sick to his stomach, wondering if this was just a convenient effect of the radiation that plagued Tanglewood.
Slowly turning around in a circle, his icy blue eyes still intensely focused on the feathered newcomers, the lion rumbled out in a weak voice, his throat – and his body in general – still shredded from the experience he had just gone through, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"S-Selby? Anybody? Can somebody please tell me if this is normal? Because it doesn't feel normal. It didn't feel right... it hurt so much..."[/glow] The blood caked on his back served as a stark reminder of how wrong this felt, and how much mutations just freaked him out in general. And now he had one himself... it gave him a sense of something similar to whiplash.
Things recently had worn on Wormwood's mental state quite effectively. Whether it be the death of Arrow, the arrival of his mother, Sam being kidnapped, and he recent fight with Draekon, all of it was making every day seem like a slog. Wormwood was comforted by one thing or another occasionally, whether it be the antics of his group mates, or spending a few hours with his brother and just relaxing as they had a nice conversation, but these things were starting to become fewer and farther between. The lion spent a large amount of time out hunting and trying to just find something to occupy his mind. He supposed the death of Arrow had been the start of everything. The senior member's death in front of him had not only knocked the entire community of Tanglewood off balance, but it also made him contemplate his own mortality, as well as Poetking's. He had spent days regretting the decisions he had made with his limited time alive, and he had spent those days holed up in his home, away from where anybody but Poet could access him.
He had then met Draekon, and things had actually looked up for a bit. The other male, despite being a member of the Pitt, made him happy, and made his days seem a little bit less bleak and full of dread. He had spent a lot of time visiting the male and spending hours just laying with him and telling the events of his day. And then, after one fateful visit to Draekon, he had come back only to find out that his Mother was here. Not only was she here, but she was here to join, and to destroy the happiness that he had finally begun to found among those in Tanglewood. This was the point where he had thought that his short adventure in having an actual family and support system was over, but he had been proven wrong. His new friends had stood up for him, and had even given him the courage to finally stand up to Judith and tell her to fuck off. This had filled him with a new sense of delight, and a weird feeling he hadn't felt in a while – or ever, really – self respect. He actually felt like a person, worthy of love from those around him, and from himself.
His Mother was still here even now, but at least she seemed distracted with Poetking, and while he occasionally went to check on Poetking to make sure she wasn't doing anything to his vulnerable brother, he let his Mother's jabs and threats roll off of his shoulders, just snarling back at her and focusing on Poet. However, this newfound sense of tranquility and family only lasted until Sam disappeared, with only the smell of the Pitt left in her wake. He had been terrified for her life, since she had been one of the ones to help him gain confidence against Judith, and he felt a like he owed her something, even more than he already had simply by virtue of being her groupmate. He had decided to go to Draekon to see who had taken her – only to find out that Draekon had been the one to take her. He had been furious, screeching and crying and pushing Draekon away when the other tried to apologize. Draekon had – albeit slowly – explained that while he had been the one to capture her, he hadn't actually wanted her to be hurt. He had refused to torture her himself, and had even tried to help her escape.
Wormwood had still been furious, and told Draekon they were done, but Draekon had stopped and looked at him pleasingly, and Worm had only agreed to stay with Draekon if he never attacked or captured anybody else who smelled like Tanglewood, and would agree to be a spy for him within The Pitt to gather information. He still doubted that it would make anything up to the other Tanglers besides him, but it at least meant that Draekon wouldn't be hurting anyone else, and that they would have a source of inside information for when they finally made their move and attacked.
Even after all of this, the lion still didn't feel like he was helping anyone enough. He wanted to be able to help Tanglewood, and Draekon, and the Typhoon, and Poet, and everybody else that counted on him or trusted him. But he still just felt too weak, especially after what had happened with Vathmos. If he couldn't protect himself from his own groupmates, how was he supposed to protect himself and others from the Pitt? The thoughts of all of this and more were in his head as he laid on the porch of his house, his eyes dark and listless as he thought of how useless he felt right now. His back leg ached where Vathmos had bitten it, as if reminding him of his former failures. He closed his eyes slowly to stop tears from slipping out, his fangs grit and a slight tremor passing through his body as he remembering the crippling, burning electricity that had passed viciously through his body when Vathmos had bitten him.
Slowly, however, the burning began to localize itself to one area – between his shoulder blades. As the pain grew stronger and sharper, he let out a gasp, slowly getting to his trembling paws and choking out softly, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"Stop, stop, stop, please... Selby! Selby, something is wrong with me."[/glow] He called out for the group medic as he attempted to climb off of the porch, but a sharp scream of pain left him and he collapsed down against the ground as the burning became so bad that he felt like vomiting. He laid there on the ground for several minutes, his eyes closed desperately as the pain tore through him, before he suddenly felt a light weight against his back that steadily became heavier. The pain gradually faded with this, and eventually the tears running down his face dried, and he slowly got back up to his feet.
However, the weight on his back hadn't ceased, and he slowly padded over to a semi clean puddle in their camp. His eyes widened as soon as he saw the culprit of both the pain he had experienced and the new source of encumbrance. Huge wings. Crimson and gold wings that were long and wide, with massive feathers and bright colors that matched his default pelt. They were large enough for him to achieve lift-off, and around the base of them was rusty and caked on blood, evidently from his skin tearing and shifting to accommodate the new appendages. He stared at them in gaping shock, a new sense of confusion and surprise gripping his entire form. Just when he had been thinking about needing something new to help defend others, he had grown... these. He wanted to be happy, or impressed, but really all he felt was sick to his stomach, wondering if this was just a convenient effect of the radiation that plagued Tanglewood.
Slowly turning around in a circle, his icy blue eyes still intensely focused on the feathered newcomers, the lion rumbled out in a weak voice, his throat – and his body in general – still shredded from the experience he had just gone through, [glow=#793B29,1,400]"S-Selby? Anybody? Can somebody please tell me if this is normal? Because it doesn't feel normal. It didn't feel right... it hurt so much..."[/glow] The blood caked on his back served as a stark reminder of how wrong this felt, and how much mutations just freaked him out in general. And now he had one himself... it gave him a sense of something similar to whiplash.
— Reggan