09-20-2020, 07:41 PM
TELL HIM THE NIGHTMARES HAVEN'T STOPPED
tell him i'm not sure what is real and what is not
Loey's life didn't sound half as interesting as most people's.
He remembers the stories, as a young pup, of the monster hidden deep into the volcano's tunnels; a monster that roared so loud when it caught its prey that you could hear it from the surface every time, no matter where it was. As a child, his mother had convinced him and his brother that the rumble of the volcano was the roar of the monster, and had placated him; because Canis had always been braver and stronger than him, by telling him that the monster never came to the surface.
She was wrong.
He remembered like it was yesterday how the hot, gloopy, orange magma had risen to the surface with deafening roars. Remembers the screaming as people fled the filling tunnels, the cries as some didn't get the chance. The blood on people's limbs and chests and shoulders as they limped as fast as they could, his mother and father already gone, his brother by his side as they ran as fast as they could.
The people weren't bleeding, though. The magma had melted through their soft flesh, left horrible, gaping wounds that festered within hours.
And then he couldn't see at all, and all he could feel was hot. He'd screamed so loudly then that he'd burst his eardrums and almost rendered himself deaf. Canis had left. He'd tried to stay, he remembers it vaguely; hearing him fighting against everyone trying to pull him away, his cries as he was dragged by his horns from his dying brother. Somehow, he'd managed to pull himself to his feet hours later. He didn't know who or what helped him, but he'd stumbled his way through territories before he'd collapsed upon a gravestone at Zephyr, and he stayed there ever since.
Safe to say, he'd never seen anyone paint their fur before. It explained the curious look upon his delicately carved face, brows furrowed slightly and mouth opened into an 'o', steps slow and quiet as he approached. It was... pretty. It reminded him of the plentiful forest back home, and of the hot lava from before then. "How do you make it?" he questioned quietly, sitting a slight ways away while he waited for an explanation.
He remembers the stories, as a young pup, of the monster hidden deep into the volcano's tunnels; a monster that roared so loud when it caught its prey that you could hear it from the surface every time, no matter where it was. As a child, his mother had convinced him and his brother that the rumble of the volcano was the roar of the monster, and had placated him; because Canis had always been braver and stronger than him, by telling him that the monster never came to the surface.
She was wrong.
He remembered like it was yesterday how the hot, gloopy, orange magma had risen to the surface with deafening roars. Remembers the screaming as people fled the filling tunnels, the cries as some didn't get the chance. The blood on people's limbs and chests and shoulders as they limped as fast as they could, his mother and father already gone, his brother by his side as they ran as fast as they could.
The people weren't bleeding, though. The magma had melted through their soft flesh, left horrible, gaping wounds that festered within hours.
And then he couldn't see at all, and all he could feel was hot. He'd screamed so loudly then that he'd burst his eardrums and almost rendered himself deaf. Canis had left. He'd tried to stay, he remembers it vaguely; hearing him fighting against everyone trying to pull him away, his cries as he was dragged by his horns from his dying brother. Somehow, he'd managed to pull himself to his feet hours later. He didn't know who or what helped him, but he'd stumbled his way through territories before he'd collapsed upon a gravestone at Zephyr, and he stayed there ever since.
Safe to say, he'd never seen anyone paint their fur before. It explained the curious look upon his delicately carved face, brows furrowed slightly and mouth opened into an 'o', steps slow and quiet as he approached. It was... pretty. It reminded him of the plentiful forest back home, and of the hot lava from before then. "How do you make it?" he questioned quietly, sitting a slight ways away while he waited for an explanation.
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