AESIOR OPHELES
✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go
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Quiet the approach of a new face, scarred muzzle still as the tom crossed ground as firelight reflected in his eyes. He had yet to know much about this place, and he was curious about it. Flicking an ear as he sat down, Aesi would exhale just to see its effects on the fire, sitting across from Arlo. It was warm, and the warmth lulled him into a relaxed state, a state where his mind drifted to the past. He shivered even with the warmth pressing against his pelt, small blossoms of yellow roses peering through the foliage upon his shoulders and forelegs, tiny sprigs of begonia appearing among the slow-growing blossoms, his eyes focused on the deepest part of the bonfire.
Ground disappearing under his paws, blood trickling into his eyes and down his hip, wounds sliced into his hips. The ground disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, something bigger and taller than him closing in on him, his ears pinning back in fear. He was scared, so scared. Something was holding him, and the ground was back, dropped to the bloody terrain, paws scrambling before they were knocked from under him and he was on his back, a scream of anguish cut into shreds as claws came across his throat, ending his hope of screaming for help.
Stirring from the dark memories, the tom wrapped his tail about his paws tightly as he ruffled his pelt out in an attempt to comfort himself, pawing at a piece of wood that hadn't yet been sent into the fire. Picking it up, he directed the small piece of wood into the fire, feeling the heat upon his pads, nose wrinkling at the strange feeling. Could he step into it? No. He didn't want to be scolded for stupidity. He wasn't a Grim anymore.
Ground disappearing under his paws, blood trickling into his eyes and down his hip, wounds sliced into his hips. The ground disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, something bigger and taller than him closing in on him, his ears pinning back in fear. He was scared, so scared. Something was holding him, and the ground was back, dropped to the bloody terrain, paws scrambling before they were knocked from under him and he was on his back, a scream of anguish cut into shreds as claws came across his throat, ending his hope of screaming for help.
Stirring from the dark memories, the tom wrapped his tail about his paws tightly as he ruffled his pelt out in an attempt to comfort himself, pawing at a piece of wood that hadn't yet been sent into the fire. Picking it up, he directed the small piece of wood into the fire, feeling the heat upon his pads, nose wrinkling at the strange feeling. Could he step into it? No. He didn't want to be scolded for stupidity. He wasn't a Grim anymore.
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THE FLOWER BURNS