05-02-2018, 09:00 PM
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I GOT A BONE TO PICK
[W]iskerI GOT A BONE TO PICK
[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;"] The cavern argus was lead to was larger than the dull dull tunnels. A spherical room with sets of place to rest. Pillows and soft things settled in a corner that the beast watcher quickly climbed upon. Careful on her shoulder as she rested on a good half of the pile. Quick to take the space as her own to lay upon. watch the room in a way that a specialty paranoid cornered animal might.
The cavern walls were a dark stone coloration. Nothing like the sandstone walls that puny little paws dug. Nothing like the blood-soaked pit where equally innocent eyes pushed screaming, weak vile prisoner's down. Shelves lining with information and pawprints of every prisoner she ever had killed- filling the shelves- books overstuffed. Back when she thought it honor to keep track of a number of them all. When Whisper lost count and she took every tome. All the, memorized information- every life cut short just for a child's curiosity
and burned it all.
Like a child having to bury the mistake from mommy and daddy except mom and dad abandoned her moons before.
It was nothing like the forgotten subway. Where whatever hero- whatever hope brought within it's labyrinth was crashed under the claws of a bi-colored wolf. Where demons swore their allegiance and made deals with broken things. Mending them into perfect little monsters. Where a beast controlled. Spoke a tongue older than time itself, and sold the souls of every comrade she had ever faced for a touch of power. Ripping her wings away- and selling them for more
Where black beings wept black blood. Ink and tar smeared within the bloodstream just for curiosities sake. Childlike wonder and every held down emotion. Rage, fear, sadness, atrociousness- Where a small child wept- the beast roared within the tunnels. The walls were nothing like the iron wrought train calls that screamed the beast is free- it is in control and the sniveling little whelp is merely a wh i s pe r
-but the walls were closing in all the same. The beast inside her now had a name and it screamed inside of her. The child whimpered and the mother mourned. But here - in this cave in this darkness the beast was in element. It was the loudest and Argus cut the whimper in her throat, within the small dull cave. She nursed her alcohol and breathed deeply. Tried to imagine fresher airs and dull red eyes. Tried to forget that running from a beast only made it chase you down. And the watcher sat there and watched.
The cavern walls were a dark stone coloration. Nothing like the sandstone walls that puny little paws dug. Nothing like the blood-soaked pit where equally innocent eyes pushed screaming, weak vile prisoner's down. Shelves lining with information and pawprints of every prisoner she ever had killed- filling the shelves- books overstuffed. Back when she thought it honor to keep track of a number of them all. When Whisper lost count and she took every tome. All the, memorized information- every life cut short just for a child's curiosity
and burned it all.
Like a child having to bury the mistake from mommy and daddy except mom and dad abandoned her moons before.
It was nothing like the forgotten subway. Where whatever hero- whatever hope brought within it's labyrinth was crashed under the claws of a bi-colored wolf. Where demons swore their allegiance and made deals with broken things. Mending them into perfect little monsters. Where a beast controlled. Spoke a tongue older than time itself, and sold the souls of every comrade she had ever faced for a touch of power. Ripping her wings away- and selling them for more
Where black beings wept black blood. Ink and tar smeared within the bloodstream just for curiosities sake. Childlike wonder and every held down emotion. Rage, fear, sadness, atrociousness- Where a small child wept- the beast roared within the tunnels. The walls were nothing like the iron wrought train calls that screamed the beast is free- it is in control and the sniveling little whelp is merely a wh i s pe r
-but the walls were closing in all the same. The beast inside her now had a name and it screamed inside of her. The child whimpered and the mother mourned. But here - in this cave in this darkness the beast was in element. It was the loudest and Argus cut the whimper in her throat, within the small dull cave. She nursed her alcohol and breathed deeply. Tried to imagine fresher airs and dull red eyes. Tried to forget that running from a beast only made it chase you down. And the watcher sat there and watched.