BUCKINGHAM PALACE IS MINE // Window's storage & thoughts

[Windowmemer]

JORMUNGAND

male — the Pitt — bio — pinterest board

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Sanity

Jormungand

"Thin as they were, they were slowly being plucked apart by this... moron's attacks."

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Time - 2300PM, one day after Baby's death

Weather - Foggy

Day of the Week (DOTW) - Friday

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"Weak." The male snarled, his tail lashing angrily as his claws dug deep grooves into the ground. "Pathetic." Another roar. "Pity." He let a growl rumble his throat. "You feel pity for me? You dare?"
This... person, had begun tugging at the strings. Slowly, teasingly, second by second. The strings of his sanity. Thin as they were, they were slowly being plucked apart by this.. moron's attacks. His opponent grinned, a sadistic smile, unsheathing gleaming talons and copying the panther's movements before dissolving in the steam, reappearing, curling around the panther's neck. "But, you don't want my pity? Everybody knows how you lost B-"

The strings snapped as his beloved's name was mentioned. Anything that held Jormungand's sanity to this plane had just been ripped to shreds, not that there was much to begin with. With a scream of anger, his vision turning crimson, the 200-pound, muscular male lunged towards his enemy. To his utter unsurprise, his opponent didn't try to run away, instead matched him, move for move. No blows were landed, though crimson lifeblood was spilt, only one-sided. He could call on his shadows to armor him, but he wanted to bleed. To stain the ground, to mark the place as his, and his only. This place was going to be his. Nobody could take it. Too much has happened here for it to be ruined by a mere trespasser. Dirt, dust, sweat, the pungent, addicting, metallic smell of blood, his blood, soon hung heavy in the air. He snarled, angrily, looking at his mauled frontal paws, and sat down, smoothing out his fur with rough strokes of his tongue.

"Do not mention her name again to me. To anyone. Ever. Or be certain those will be the last words you'll ever utter."
Outside he seemed calm, but inside he was positively boiling with rage. How dare he use Baby's name in vain? Calling her out to be a liar, and a cheat? No, not her. Jormungand may be one, and he was proud to admit it, but not his sister.
"I will hunt you down even if I have to travel to the edge of the Realm and back. I'll follow you into the Shadows and back. Insult her again, and I'll find a way to bring you to life so I can bring down a fucking plethora of shit raining down on you." He threatened, orbs turning icy cold and hard, unforgiving, as the handsome male scowled at the floor. His Shadow stared back, an evil smile on his face as it stood up and began striding on the floor.
"Actually, handsome, I can do whatever I want. You don't own me, you can't tell me what to do. I can dirt-throw shit on anyone and they won't be able to touch me."
Suddenly, a sinister grin spread on the panther's lips as he stood up, coming face-to-face with the demon. "Actually, I can. You seem to be forgetting something, don't you?" He taunted. The other seemed a bit confused, so Jormungand pressed on, anger still brewing in his mind, but sadistic pleasure took over the majority.
"You seem to be forgetting Hebe."
Hebe.
The witch, he had threatened into giving him the power to raise the shadows of the dead, what he used for his sister.
He watched with glee as the demon's complexion visibly paled.
"You seem to forget," Jor drawled on, "That I can make whatever I summon touchable, right?" He clucked his tongue, false sympathy dripping from his lips.
The other stayed quiet. Jormungand lifted his chin in triumph, blood dripping down it to splatter on the floor, eyes glowing through the mist.
"Anything you got to say?"

No answer. He was left alone in the clearing and the heart, once again. His lifeblood was still pooling from his paws and side, and he let out a gruff sigh, starting to limp towards the water mass that his dead sister was dropped into. Upon reaching it, he stepped into the water, wincing briefly as the coldness stung his warm pads. He hissed through his teeth before dipping his head down and lapping at the water, completely submerging his body, washing out the grime, dirt, blood and sweat, watching it drift and dissolve into the water.

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It's survival of the fittest and you and me both play by the rules, no?

#psychosocial.