09-03-2020, 11:42 PM
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TYPHOON
NECRO MAMBAS
NECRO MAMBAS
[div style="width: px; font-family: GEORGIA; color: #422426; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"][align=center]ARE YOU GOOD WITH CHAOS ?!
Society cares little for the actions of the individual; Rosemary the individual cares little for society as a whole. This arrangement worked for the witch, as she spent entire days meditating under the trees with only her crocodile for company or snoozed the morning away. Occasionally, a relative visited her—for advice, to celebrate a holiday, or other such milestones. But the witch kept her own company, sipping her tea while journaling her observations on magic and herbs.
She continued to supply the Necro Mambas with her homemade ointments, using tins identical to her teas to contain dried herbs or ready-made mixtures. Rosemary advised Roan (sporadically) and traded away homemade moonshine for exotic plants (rarely). Rosemary enjoyed a life free of routine, as carefree as the waves themselves, as she enjoyed the solitude of nature. People visited her when she allowed them, and she would gently nudge even Goldie or Roxie when she tired of socialization.
All of this quiet living came to an end this fateful morning.
The ocelot’s four eyes, all wide eyed, focused singularly on the burning treehouse in front of her. Her fur, still damp from a swim in the ocean, dried in the flame’s heat.
She’d heard thunder in the distance when she’d swam. It’s why she got out of the water earlier than intended, replacing the soothing swim with a quick meditation. Rosemary’d scritched Eri the crocodile’s head while listening to the rumbling booms, finding solace in the familiar drum beats.
All of that tranquility vanished, going up with the smoke climbing to the clouds.
Eri’s snout touched her cheek, and the ocelot snapped back into reality. Water at the riverbank slipped uphill, streams gurgling towards Rosemary and weaving around any stones in their path. The witch glared at her treehouse, now little more than a husk, and gritted her teeth as she snaked the water up her tree.
The streams strangled the fire like vines stealing the lifeforce out of a tree, wrapping around the treehouse like a constrictor snake. More water rushed upward, until a water bubble snuffed out the flames.
Only then did Rosemary exhale, the water bubble popping. The raindrops splattered the ground, and the water freely ran downstream again, where it joined the river.
But the damage was done. Rosemary saw that from the ground. The ash, the burned wood… nothing survived that, except perhaps the metal tins she used. At least the fire stopped. The threat to the rest of the jungle island had been destroyed, but….
“What a day,” Rosemary sighed, scratching Eri on his nose.
[/td][/tr][/table]She continued to supply the Necro Mambas with her homemade ointments, using tins identical to her teas to contain dried herbs or ready-made mixtures. Rosemary advised Roan (sporadically) and traded away homemade moonshine for exotic plants (rarely). Rosemary enjoyed a life free of routine, as carefree as the waves themselves, as she enjoyed the solitude of nature. People visited her when she allowed them, and she would gently nudge even Goldie or Roxie when she tired of socialization.
All of this quiet living came to an end this fateful morning.
The ocelot’s four eyes, all wide eyed, focused singularly on the burning treehouse in front of her. Her fur, still damp from a swim in the ocean, dried in the flame’s heat.
She’d heard thunder in the distance when she’d swam. It’s why she got out of the water earlier than intended, replacing the soothing swim with a quick meditation. Rosemary’d scritched Eri the crocodile’s head while listening to the rumbling booms, finding solace in the familiar drum beats.
All of that tranquility vanished, going up with the smoke climbing to the clouds.
Eri’s snout touched her cheek, and the ocelot snapped back into reality. Water at the riverbank slipped uphill, streams gurgling towards Rosemary and weaving around any stones in their path. The witch glared at her treehouse, now little more than a husk, and gritted her teeth as she snaked the water up her tree.
The streams strangled the fire like vines stealing the lifeforce out of a tree, wrapping around the treehouse like a constrictor snake. More water rushed upward, until a water bubble snuffed out the flames.
Only then did Rosemary exhale, the water bubble popping. The raindrops splattered the ground, and the water freely ran downstream again, where it joined the river.
But the damage was done. Rosemary saw that from the ground. The ash, the burned wood… nothing survived that, except perhaps the metal tins she used. At least the fire stopped. The threat to the rest of the jungle island had been destroyed, but….
“What a day,” Rosemary sighed, scratching Eri on his nose.
© MADI
I FEEL SO HUNGRY —
— Dear diary, I don't know what's going on, but something's up / The dog won't stop barking, and I think my TV is bust / Every channel is the same, it's sending me insane / And earlier somebody bit me, what a fucking day / The sky is falling / It's fucking boring / I'm going braindead, isolated / God is a shithead / And we're his rejects / Traumatized for breakfast / I can't stomach any more survival horror / Dear diary, I feel itchy like there's bugs under my skin / The dog's gone rabid (shut the fuck up) / Doing my head in —— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?