07-26-2020, 02:52 PM
— He should not be, maybe. Not that he should not exist; but it shouldn’t be like this. War wrought and strung high with fever-fury-anger- barely controlled wrath leashed down. Held to a standstill by the limitations of the infection of two parts, one part whole and one-part curiosity. Ament should not be half infected and half whole, cut down and hollowed by [glow=grey,2,300]static[/glow] and chains and still so very very angry. It should not taste like inevitability, what ament mutated into, once a child of wonder and protection now bled- wept with incompleteness the only way the senseless knew how: senseless, violence.
It should not taste like defeat, to be here, under the dawn of a shredded bed (ament long ago ripping the bedding he found himself under roans care); so quiet and complacent and blank under his mother’s stare. (The wounds along his neck, his wings were bleeding agony and a small little thing came closer and ament had to keep from howling out; keep from doing something dangerous) he felt caged- trapped and so very small under the shade of a hut he did not build, a nest without his sisters and with infrequent visits of his mother-
Void, all encompassing, tender cold- cold so very cold.
The people around him see the threat in his very existence; his silence and poise of a predator stalking down their kin, chasing their shadows. They don’t see the scope that ament has settled on. This rage without direction was never necessarily pointed at them.
Now, without any outside influence, beyond roan’s visits, and lucifer’s occasional shadow, ament is quiet. The rage is gone, the cuiroisity; the relentless, pursuit of knowledge hunting; either for information or death is simply gone. Ament sees the intimidation; the fear in thoese healing beyond him. Everyone knows of the venadi, of the large dangerous form of the omega and how he came in dripping blood, even along the back of his mother, and even know; the hard to reach places to preen alone are still stained a drying deep brown of old blood.
And ament is quiet.
The listless, relentless needneedneed is gone. All that is left is simply the beast. Simple savagery without rage, without curiosity; ament sleeps for the most of it, at times raising from the shredded down to simply stretch before he too returns to the bedding.
They know plenty of who the venadi; but the venadi [glow=grey,2,300]broke [/glow]long ago, and even know together with his sisters ament is alone here.
It should not taste like defeat, to be here, under the dawn of a shredded bed (ament long ago ripping the bedding he found himself under roans care); so quiet and complacent and blank under his mother’s stare. (The wounds along his neck, his wings were bleeding agony and a small little thing came closer and ament had to keep from howling out; keep from doing something dangerous) he felt caged- trapped and so very small under the shade of a hut he did not build, a nest without his sisters and with infrequent visits of his mother-
Void, all encompassing, tender cold- cold so very cold.
The people around him see the threat in his very existence; his silence and poise of a predator stalking down their kin, chasing their shadows. They don’t see the scope that ament has settled on. This rage without direction was never necessarily pointed at them.
Now, without any outside influence, beyond roan’s visits, and lucifer’s occasional shadow, ament is quiet. The rage is gone, the cuiroisity; the relentless, pursuit of knowledge hunting; either for information or death is simply gone. Ament sees the intimidation; the fear in thoese healing beyond him. Everyone knows of the venadi, of the large dangerous form of the omega and how he came in dripping blood, even along the back of his mother, and even know; the hard to reach places to preen alone are still stained a drying deep brown of old blood.
And ament is quiet.
The listless, relentless needneedneed is gone. All that is left is simply the beast. Simple savagery without rage, without curiosity; ament sleeps for the most of it, at times raising from the shredded down to simply stretch before he too returns to the bedding.
They know plenty of who the venadi; but the venadi [glow=grey,2,300]broke [/glow]long ago, and even know together with his sisters ament is alone here.
made by wisker
I LET THE ANGER GO—
AND MOTHER NATURE FOUND IT'S PLACE
AND MOTHER NATURE FOUND IT'S PLACE