05-03-2018, 02:14 AM
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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;"] Argus has little idea of Jasper's intentions when she was conceived. An aimless mistake that turned to love half the way into falling. Argus has never truly dwelled on their mother. Too caught up in feeling and seeing and - watching. Watching the world through innocent baby blue eyes that jolted with a unseen power. She was born without a power, a small little fleck of ash within a den of milk and love. Kryll was similar. The pair of them tiny squirming little things, living breathing animals. Maybe once they were a family. Maybe Argus knew the semblance of one once upon a dawn.
But looking back into the mindset of a different name. All she sees is a deep rooted sorrow and a flicker of desperate hope. That family, the very first one she never got a taste of- abandoned her to fend for herself in the sands. Leaving for a literal greener pasture of windclan's open fields. Leaving argus- whisper with the choice to give up and die, or live on. That was to say that she did still have family. A grumpy old tiger with a knack for pixie sticks and a tender heart.
What she remembers most, she remembers being alone.
After a while, it was a choice. To live on the edges of society, to live on the cusps of clans and walk the barren borders as a shadow without it's light. She choose isolation. Too desperate for someone to come find her and too stubborn to ask for it. She asked to be alone- self imposed isolation based on some faulty reason that she was undeserving of something as simple as comfort. Tough starved. But she never chose the loneliness. Now it is the only lingering memory, the feeling of her oldest other is only the deep sorrow. The pathetic whimpering of her choice. The first and biggest mistake of her life.
The last one she ever made being truly alive: To chose not to live, but die by her own paw.
12 moons old. Whisperpup died of a slit throat to a dagger melted within the sands of time. Too young to understand the feeling of a comforted embrace of a home or family. Too young to understand that love was not the feeling of watching your mother's back as she left one final time. Too quiet too somber- too loud- and clever enough to hide it but too stubborn to seek help before she reached that ultimatum that death would bring her peace.
And so- so ignorant to think that the gods would grant her a peace that she did not deserve.
Now, with a beating heart in her chest and a hollow hole above her throat, she feels the same loneliness. Feels it fester beyond her control and spiral out through her mouth- her eyes her throat her ears. Feels tears never ceasing. Feels one painful sob after another as she laid out this broken soul marked to wonder the earth forever. and wonders what it is like to truly die. Wonders how it feels to be peaceful. How to love and try and ignite that spark of hope that she had snuffed out when she was young and mortal and alive.
If asked what she were, she could only say the word definition mortals saw fit to title one such as her. Shinigami. She was not a god born but created by her own merit. A powerless whisper a tiny puny little soul that tried to snuff itself out. Now she is left to wonder the earth and clean up the messes of mortals. Find the broken little cusps of failures and shattered animals like herself and mend them into something fixable. To fall in love with her own younger reflections and let them live in a love she never had the courage to ask for but now to give freely- and she watches them die in death, to cling to their each last breath in the night or day and their soul to cry out it was worth living.
But that love. The selfless consuming love she gave so freely broke her with each step she took. It tumbles now under her chest. rattles her heart in warning for each breath of it she consumes- feeding the dark tendrils of malice and rage inside of her. Now when asked she may admit to being something other than wolf. But to herself, to her true self she admits she is not a creature fit to walk this earth. Not a monster born surely- but a monster none the less.
Where each love she found she saw them break and take a part of that heart with them. Where she selfless- gave everything they only saw fit to take with them as they leave. Now she is desperate. Missing parts of her empathy where only a callous beating heart remain. Where only the desperate broken parts of herself remain- where she does not remember anything of love but only the hurt. The final crescendo of when that love fruits into more hurt.
She cannot fathom love ever being worth it- the joy the desperate, and the consumption the absolution of a power that would make all the shattered peaces of her being align into something not necessarily less broken but something greater than herself. With each steady beat of this mortal framing around her soul. it is not a selfless, open love but a callous beast, armed to the teeth with malice and rage. Driven to desperation and doomed to watch. Watch as the world around her shifts to match her own soul. Watch with open eyes and recognize- too late that she was meant to save thoese broken souls so much like her mortal self. Save them instead of break them. Save instead of letting them fall into a legion of crying desperate immortals like herself.
Now they scream. When she thinks of love she thinks of this desperate broken openness of letting this eldritch being see her soul. She wonders if he has the benevolence to end it. And she selfishly hopes. There is a slefish, broken part of herself that wants to close it's eyes and not see the world fall. To see mortals turned into monsters and monsters turn back into mortals. Does not want to see this world shift to the worst. She wants to hope- but she does not know what it means to hope. Not anymore.
She breaks from her silence in a desperate keen. Wings cradling her frail hollow mortal frame and shudder in deep lungfuls as she breathes in and exhales whatever love is. Tries to remember what it's like to have a family. And fail. She sobs and breaks apart under the only night she has ever let herself break. The only immortal to ever remember that she was born a shadow. Not this mimicry of light her body now represents. Where her eyes- once red now blink open blue. Pale electric blue- she sobs into the world with different eyes, but the eyes she has hidden for so long.
"I didn't- n't mean to do it." She cuts off as a shudder breaks through her lungs. A lungful of air that smolders into memories of ash. "I was so terribly alone. I wanted peace and... it was foolish to think that the gods would give it to me in death." Breathe. Breathe. Remember the sand of sand under your paws. remember the feeling of blood in your fur. The scent of milk and honey and how you had fo r g o tt en. "Now the death cling to me. Now i have forgotten what it was like- to be alive." Forgotten love, forgotten hope. Forgot what it was like to breathe and need it. Forgot what it was like without this monster under her skin. This selfless love breaking her down until her brain shuts it out as a means of self preservation.
Now- here she looks up. Sees the glow of red that reflected unreadable runes of leviathans and void. She looks into the abyss of lucifer. She looks up and see's a broken god born into his own right. See's how every thing built for him, built around him and what he desperately tried to build for himself shattered. See's how the very different being has come to try, and desperately crawl its way out under the ruble of it all. She see's an almost perfect reflection of herself and tries to picture what kind of monster- what kind of power it would take to bring a beast such as the both of them to halt and flicker. Wonders what lets them forgive so easily. To allow them to bear their souls so openly and to find the desperate, broken parts of themselves in others and attempt to mend it.
She wonders about love. And she thinks it has something to do with it.
And the god spoke one final acknowledgement. Here pressed against a coldness that seeps into her fur. It reminds of her death, of that final giving embrace she felt when she was 12 before it spat her back out. She feels this terrible cold and the god of darkness - as Lucifer speaks. She feels a warmth she never thought was possible since she had died.
She is wordless, against this cold, this warmth. She is unable to explain the rattle of her heart and how the hunger- the desperate feeling she has felt since she woke up after killing herself that never left her- suddenly vanishes with her next breath. She is unable to find a word for this peace. So when she speaks again, it is with a sure breath. With a calm resolution that she speaks to the dark cold that embraces her now. " I never saw myself deserving of a family." She tries to inspire that same warmth. the same familiar flutter- a whisper of the same intangible feeling into the ice that covers his scales and tries to break it. Hopelessly with her works. "Family isn't something made with mistakes. But i think. If there is such a thing as family for me out there. I am glad that it's you. Lucifer." She cannot remember what it is like to hope. To love. But she is stranded. Stuck on this plane until the last mortal flees into the afterlife and this realm is reborn into one for immortals. So she has time. Time to repay this flicker of life- of warmth. Into the cold scales that has forgotten the feeling.
But looking back into the mindset of a different name. All she sees is a deep rooted sorrow and a flicker of desperate hope. That family, the very first one she never got a taste of- abandoned her to fend for herself in the sands. Leaving for a literal greener pasture of windclan's open fields. Leaving argus- whisper with the choice to give up and die, or live on. That was to say that she did still have family. A grumpy old tiger with a knack for pixie sticks and a tender heart.
What she remembers most, she remembers being alone.
After a while, it was a choice. To live on the edges of society, to live on the cusps of clans and walk the barren borders as a shadow without it's light. She choose isolation. Too desperate for someone to come find her and too stubborn to ask for it. She asked to be alone- self imposed isolation based on some faulty reason that she was undeserving of something as simple as comfort. Tough starved. But she never chose the loneliness. Now it is the only lingering memory, the feeling of her oldest other is only the deep sorrow. The pathetic whimpering of her choice. The first and biggest mistake of her life.
The last one she ever made being truly alive: To chose not to live, but die by her own paw.
12 moons old. Whisperpup died of a slit throat to a dagger melted within the sands of time. Too young to understand the feeling of a comforted embrace of a home or family. Too young to understand that love was not the feeling of watching your mother's back as she left one final time. Too quiet too somber- too loud- and clever enough to hide it but too stubborn to seek help before she reached that ultimatum that death would bring her peace.
And so- so ignorant to think that the gods would grant her a peace that she did not deserve.
Now, with a beating heart in her chest and a hollow hole above her throat, she feels the same loneliness. Feels it fester beyond her control and spiral out through her mouth- her eyes her throat her ears. Feels tears never ceasing. Feels one painful sob after another as she laid out this broken soul marked to wonder the earth forever. and wonders what it is like to truly die. Wonders how it feels to be peaceful. How to love and try and ignite that spark of hope that she had snuffed out when she was young and mortal and alive.
If asked what she were, she could only say the word definition mortals saw fit to title one such as her. Shinigami. She was not a god born but created by her own merit. A powerless whisper a tiny puny little soul that tried to snuff itself out. Now she is left to wonder the earth and clean up the messes of mortals. Find the broken little cusps of failures and shattered animals like herself and mend them into something fixable. To fall in love with her own younger reflections and let them live in a love she never had the courage to ask for but now to give freely- and she watches them die in death, to cling to their each last breath in the night or day and their soul to cry out it was worth living.
But that love. The selfless consuming love she gave so freely broke her with each step she took. It tumbles now under her chest. rattles her heart in warning for each breath of it she consumes- feeding the dark tendrils of malice and rage inside of her. Now when asked she may admit to being something other than wolf. But to herself, to her true self she admits she is not a creature fit to walk this earth. Not a monster born surely- but a monster none the less.
Where each love she found she saw them break and take a part of that heart with them. Where she selfless- gave everything they only saw fit to take with them as they leave. Now she is desperate. Missing parts of her empathy where only a callous beating heart remain. Where only the desperate broken parts of herself remain- where she does not remember anything of love but only the hurt. The final crescendo of when that love fruits into more hurt.
She cannot fathom love ever being worth it- the joy the desperate, and the consumption the absolution of a power that would make all the shattered peaces of her being align into something not necessarily less broken but something greater than herself. With each steady beat of this mortal framing around her soul. it is not a selfless, open love but a callous beast, armed to the teeth with malice and rage. Driven to desperation and doomed to watch. Watch as the world around her shifts to match her own soul. Watch with open eyes and recognize- too late that she was meant to save thoese broken souls so much like her mortal self. Save them instead of break them. Save instead of letting them fall into a legion of crying desperate immortals like herself.
Now they scream. When she thinks of love she thinks of this desperate broken openness of letting this eldritch being see her soul. She wonders if he has the benevolence to end it. And she selfishly hopes. There is a slefish, broken part of herself that wants to close it's eyes and not see the world fall. To see mortals turned into monsters and monsters turn back into mortals. Does not want to see this world shift to the worst. She wants to hope- but she does not know what it means to hope. Not anymore.
She breaks from her silence in a desperate keen. Wings cradling her frail hollow mortal frame and shudder in deep lungfuls as she breathes in and exhales whatever love is. Tries to remember what it's like to have a family. And fail. She sobs and breaks apart under the only night she has ever let herself break. The only immortal to ever remember that she was born a shadow. Not this mimicry of light her body now represents. Where her eyes- once red now blink open blue. Pale electric blue- she sobs into the world with different eyes, but the eyes she has hidden for so long.
"I didn't- n't mean to do it." She cuts off as a shudder breaks through her lungs. A lungful of air that smolders into memories of ash. "I was so terribly alone. I wanted peace and... it was foolish to think that the gods would give it to me in death." Breathe. Breathe. Remember the sand of sand under your paws. remember the feeling of blood in your fur. The scent of milk and honey and how you had fo r g o tt en. "Now the death cling to me. Now i have forgotten what it was like- to be alive." Forgotten love, forgotten hope. Forgot what it was like to breathe and need it. Forgot what it was like without this monster under her skin. This selfless love breaking her down until her brain shuts it out as a means of self preservation.
Now- here she looks up. Sees the glow of red that reflected unreadable runes of leviathans and void. She looks into the abyss of lucifer. She looks up and see's a broken god born into his own right. See's how every thing built for him, built around him and what he desperately tried to build for himself shattered. See's how the very different being has come to try, and desperately crawl its way out under the ruble of it all. She see's an almost perfect reflection of herself and tries to picture what kind of monster- what kind of power it would take to bring a beast such as the both of them to halt and flicker. Wonders what lets them forgive so easily. To allow them to bear their souls so openly and to find the desperate, broken parts of themselves in others and attempt to mend it.
She wonders about love. And she thinks it has something to do with it.
And the god spoke one final acknowledgement. Here pressed against a coldness that seeps into her fur. It reminds of her death, of that final giving embrace she felt when she was 12 before it spat her back out. She feels this terrible cold and the god of darkness - as Lucifer speaks. She feels a warmth she never thought was possible since she had died.
She is wordless, against this cold, this warmth. She is unable to explain the rattle of her heart and how the hunger- the desperate feeling she has felt since she woke up after killing herself that never left her- suddenly vanishes with her next breath. She is unable to find a word for this peace. So when she speaks again, it is with a sure breath. With a calm resolution that she speaks to the dark cold that embraces her now. " I never saw myself deserving of a family." She tries to inspire that same warmth. the same familiar flutter- a whisper of the same intangible feeling into the ice that covers his scales and tries to break it. Hopelessly with her works. "Family isn't something made with mistakes. But i think. If there is such a thing as family for me out there. I am glad that it's you. Lucifer." She cannot remember what it is like to hope. To love. But she is stranded. Stuck on this plane until the last mortal flees into the afterlife and this realm is reborn into one for immortals. So she has time. Time to repay this flicker of life- of warmth. Into the cold scales that has forgotten the feeling.