08-28-2019, 09:25 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-28-2019, 09:28 PM by selby roux !.)
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Selby had taken to walks lately. They were a great way to destress, something he needed with his overcrowded schedule lately. Usually, nothing of particular concern happened. Sometimes he came across gators. Sometimes there were injured joiners. Sometimes he came across disputes.
This time was different.
In a tree with low hanging branches, he spotted a suitcase immediately recognizable as his sister’s. The sawbones carefully hoisted it down from the branch that held it. Weird. Pastel usually didn’t like to leave her things unattended. Plus, any scent of her had been long ago carried away by the wind. Selby hadn’t seen her, and he would have been one of the first people she would have talked to. His mind immediately rushed back to the injured joiners he’d seen lately. Casting a worried gaze to the ground around him, he found that the grass was disturbed in places.
He was immediately worried. The medic thoroughly combed through the nearby territory, trying to find any clue of his tiny sister. He found nothing. Pastel was tiny, smaller than a lot of normal sized kittens. It would have been easy for anyone to carry her off into the night.
Selby began searching the whole territory. The forest, town, the swamp, the beach; no stone left unturned. Except for one.
The junkyard had always been a place he tried to stay away from. Sure, it could be a useful place to find abandoned old things, but for the most part, it was mostly just gross. Still, it was the last place left on his list. No stone unturned.
As he approached the grounds, an overwhelming scent of decay wafted over towards him. Selby was not immediately worried about this. The smell could have been caused by anything: a bird of prey, a stray gator, a particularly large rat, etc. The list possibilities was infinite.
As he came closer to the scent, he saw a flock of crows fly away in a panic. He walked towards the source and found himself staring into a bright green eye, recognizable at once.
The medic had always been a little envious of his sister’s distinct look. Not so much her pink fur, but her eyes. They’d been the most piercing emerald green color, almost the color of soft grass. Selby had never really hated his looks, but he had thought that he looked plain, especially when compared to her.
Selby did not envy her eyes now. He shooed the bird away, angry.
He spotted what had initially scared the birds away: his father, expression simultaneously distraught and unreadable. Next to him, a lump of very pink fur. His gaze shifted back to his Crow, the body not registering in his mind. Back to Pastel. Then: "Oh God." He became nauseous and looked away from her pink fur, somehow even more eye catching in death. He froze into shock before the caw of a crow stirred his body into motion, though his mind stayed mostly numb.
What does one do with the body of their sister?Another glance at Crow told him that he wasn’t going to be helpful. You’re an adult. Figure it out. Selby came closer, examining the body despite every fiber of his being screaming to turn away. He studied the fatal wound with a sort of detachment, like this was any old body. He looked at her flank, examining the letter carved into her fur.
J for Jervis.
Not knowing what to do with this information, Selby continued. She would have wanted to be buried. He didn’t have anything on him to dig a hole, and he wasn’t quite sure that that was how someone went about that anyway. I oughta bring her into town... if I try to pick her up, her body’s gonna fall apart. No one else knew her. Who would want to help, anyway?
He glanced back at Crow, and though he knew that this likely not illicit a response, Selby said hoarsely, "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"
Then came the panic. He heard someone saying ‘what am i gonna do what am i supposed to do what the fuck fuck what what what am i supposed to be doing.’ It occurred to him distantly that it was his own voice.
This time was different.
In a tree with low hanging branches, he spotted a suitcase immediately recognizable as his sister’s. The sawbones carefully hoisted it down from the branch that held it. Weird. Pastel usually didn’t like to leave her things unattended. Plus, any scent of her had been long ago carried away by the wind. Selby hadn’t seen her, and he would have been one of the first people she would have talked to. His mind immediately rushed back to the injured joiners he’d seen lately. Casting a worried gaze to the ground around him, he found that the grass was disturbed in places.
He was immediately worried. The medic thoroughly combed through the nearby territory, trying to find any clue of his tiny sister. He found nothing. Pastel was tiny, smaller than a lot of normal sized kittens. It would have been easy for anyone to carry her off into the night.
Selby began searching the whole territory. The forest, town, the swamp, the beach; no stone left unturned. Except for one.
The junkyard had always been a place he tried to stay away from. Sure, it could be a useful place to find abandoned old things, but for the most part, it was mostly just gross. Still, it was the last place left on his list. No stone unturned.
As he approached the grounds, an overwhelming scent of decay wafted over towards him. Selby was not immediately worried about this. The smell could have been caused by anything: a bird of prey, a stray gator, a particularly large rat, etc. The list possibilities was infinite.
As he came closer to the scent, he saw a flock of crows fly away in a panic. He walked towards the source and found himself staring into a bright green eye, recognizable at once.
The medic had always been a little envious of his sister’s distinct look. Not so much her pink fur, but her eyes. They’d been the most piercing emerald green color, almost the color of soft grass. Selby had never really hated his looks, but he had thought that he looked plain, especially when compared to her.
Selby did not envy her eyes now. He shooed the bird away, angry.
He spotted what had initially scared the birds away: his father, expression simultaneously distraught and unreadable. Next to him, a lump of very pink fur. His gaze shifted back to his Crow, the body not registering in his mind. Back to Pastel. Then: "Oh God." He became nauseous and looked away from her pink fur, somehow even more eye catching in death. He froze into shock before the caw of a crow stirred his body into motion, though his mind stayed mostly numb.
What does one do with the body of their sister?Another glance at Crow told him that he wasn’t going to be helpful. You’re an adult. Figure it out. Selby came closer, examining the body despite every fiber of his being screaming to turn away. He studied the fatal wound with a sort of detachment, like this was any old body. He looked at her flank, examining the letter carved into her fur.
J for Jervis.
Not knowing what to do with this information, Selby continued. She would have wanted to be buried. He didn’t have anything on him to dig a hole, and he wasn’t quite sure that that was how someone went about that anyway. I oughta bring her into town... if I try to pick her up, her body’s gonna fall apart. No one else knew her. Who would want to help, anyway?
He glanced back at Crow, and though he knew that this likely not illicit a response, Selby said hoarsely, "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"
Then came the panic. He heard someone saying ‘what am i gonna do what am i supposed to do what the fuck fuck what what what am i supposed to be doing.’ It occurred to him distantly that it was his own voice.