08-20-2019, 09:37 PM
— Nocturnal , the dark sky is stark against the light of the town the clan claims ; the clan ament has claimed as his ( until his sisters, his mother are found - until he can return to them this clan , this place is his . his the way the old one was ; salt and sand and bitter softness , until ament can find a way back to the island that was once his , when he can return to himself . ) This place, these people are his ; as nature claims a life so does ament claim this clan , this stake that he will protect it as he discovers it and it in turn protects him . It is the law of the ancients ; it is the only law he knows . One of pacts and oaths sworn into the marrow ( because what stays while the rest of him rots ? his mind is already static , his enemies only flesh ) ; even six feet under - thousands of years past - ament will guard them ; treasure them - and hunt them in turn .
because , in the end - he could . ament's temper and his reason are too thin for anything else ; for friendship or relationships with creatures he doesn't understand - and in turn do not understand him . Mother tried his best , but ament and his sisters will always look at clans and their pack as different things entirely ; a divide that had been there since birth and ament has no idea who started ; but has no qualms about trying to fix.
( even without his sisters ; ament is still too different ; to savage to ever be considered a "clanmate" )
just a pet the Lygari's words linger, even now - with her mind carved into his ; he cannot excuse anything but perfect clarity . he is too . . .
savage
it was never something that bothered him ; never something to be ashamed of with his sisters - with his mother's cold shadow across the skies - even now the chill settles into his bone feels hollow without mother's presence ; everthing feels mostly of hollowness and static . it still , ins't something he is ashamed of ; he knows nothing else beside his savagery ; his wraith ; and his curiosity for these clans ( these clans that are not like him ; not like his sisters but he is alone now - it is only him and these curiosities in their clans and the s t a t i c in his b o n e s - )
the stench of rot is always within this new clan's lands ; a part of the terrain , swamps are in a constant state of decay with the humidity and mutated wildlife that flock towards the clan's eager maws , it is nothing new to him , but this smell is a lot more pungent - a lot closer for being so far from the cluster of a town that the clan claims as it camp . He does not flinch away from the smell ; does not let it deter him ( when has anything ever deterred the omegan vernandi ? - unless there was a collar around his throat and a voice carved into his skill , nothing ; and nothing will ever [b]again - ) he presses on .
( because between the stench of rot ; between the stench of this clan and the living - wraith has always been something ament can taste ; and it is sharp here ; constant - as the cutting stench of fresh blood )
in the darkness ; ament's form is like a wraith in the night , he glides between open roots and his feet are silent save for the occasional splash of water he cuts through - a soot covered face and bright blue eyes look across the den of one of the clanmates of the tanglewood - one of his ; and watches from the stillness to be noticed or ignored .
[member=6879]Vathmos[/member]
because , in the end - he could . ament's temper and his reason are too thin for anything else ; for friendship or relationships with creatures he doesn't understand - and in turn do not understand him . Mother tried his best , but ament and his sisters will always look at clans and their pack as different things entirely ; a divide that had been there since birth and ament has no idea who started ; but has no qualms about trying to fix.
( even without his sisters ; ament is still too different ; to savage to ever be considered a "clanmate" )
just a pet the Lygari's words linger, even now - with her mind carved into his ; he cannot excuse anything but perfect clarity . he is too . . .
savage
it was never something that bothered him ; never something to be ashamed of with his sisters - with his mother's cold shadow across the skies - even now the chill settles into his bone feels hollow without mother's presence ; everthing feels mostly of hollowness and static . it still , ins't something he is ashamed of ; he knows nothing else beside his savagery ; his wraith ; and his curiosity for these clans ( these clans that are not like him ; not like his sisters but he is alone now - it is only him and these curiosities in their clans and the s t a t i c in his b o n e s - )
the stench of rot is always within this new clan's lands ; a part of the terrain , swamps are in a constant state of decay with the humidity and mutated wildlife that flock towards the clan's eager maws , it is nothing new to him , but this smell is a lot more pungent - a lot closer for being so far from the cluster of a town that the clan claims as it camp . He does not flinch away from the smell ; does not let it deter him ( when has anything ever deterred the omegan vernandi ? - unless there was a collar around his throat and a voice carved into his skill , nothing ; and nothing will ever [b]again - ) he presses on .
( because between the stench of rot ; between the stench of this clan and the living - wraith has always been something ament can taste ; and it is sharp here ; constant - as the cutting stench of fresh blood )
in the darkness ; ament's form is like a wraith in the night , he glides between open roots and his feet are silent save for the occasional splash of water he cuts through - a soot covered face and bright blue eyes look across the den of one of the clanmates of the tanglewood - one of his ; and watches from the stillness to be noticed or ignored .
[member=6879]Vathmos[/member]
made by wisker
I LET THE ANGER GO—
AND MOTHER NATURE FOUND IT'S PLACE
AND MOTHER NATURE FOUND IT'S PLACE