soon it will be over * feral

[Grimm]

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[ only the last two paragraphs actually matter, i got kinda carried away ]

Edges and hard corners, sharp touch smoothed until all that is left is gentle and kind, hands finding easy purchase about gentle slope. There is nothing there to dissuade, soft calm within wide curve of gentle eyes that watch a world spiralling out of control about them, gentle voice drawn across tongue of soft pink. He is tones of dark, a shadow given the beat of a heart in chest proven hollow, filled with the light sound of laughter. Upon toes he walks, weight rolling forward until all that is drawn from such is a gentle sound – pitter patter, dance child for the masses, looking on as you cry.

It matters not the care of craft, hands so delicate in their want to shape porcelain until it seems light lingers in the cold chill of false skin. What is dead may never feel life once more, the beat of heart a mimic to calm and tease, flow of blood nothing more than an echo of past. And what of those eyes, wide and bright with tone of wonder yet shine they might it is tears that cast such a pretty sheen, smile seeking to curl as breath is caught in throat.

No one wishes to see the actor fail, watching the mask crumble away as the steps falter, pretty little dance nothing more than a farce they eat up with zeal. They jostle and laugh, enjoy a show put on for them to forget the tug of their own worries plaguing a mind that proves to be nothing more than an echo chamber, catching each thought and allowing it to fester, screaming when it ends. Distraction is all they want uncaring of who is hurt, of the child breaking upon the stage before their hungry eyes, seeking to cry when he never can, doubt and fear touching so frail a boy.

But what is left when it ends for good, when soft planes and gentle curves are given sharp touch, modelled after the knife point he walks upon.

Against the curve of teeth tongue presses, feels the jagged lines where the slot into one another incorrectly, never filling the spaces as they should. Body curled, nothing but slight weight held upon frame so small. Delicate is he, toothpick bones encased in skin, indents marring it. Groan expressed through lips pressed, line cut across features crafted from darkness, lids clenched as dreams play across uneasy mind. Within it curls, want that borders upon desire, hunger drawing jagged claws along lining of a stomach that clenches and rolls. Tongue escapes for brief moment, wetting lips before it is gone, departure marked by intake. Sharp is it, breaking apart as breath rises in sudden a rush, catching before – he is coughing, forced to roll onto his stomach.

Darkness crowds, shadows drawn across wooden floor and about figure close by, calmed in sleep. He knows well the light state of such slumber, slight groan of wood enough to jostle him, soft words of worry upon sharp tongue. Accustomed to it, learnt how to move upon toes rather than the balls of paws so small, drawing no sound as passage is made. But behind unsteady thought it is there, want to press upon board he knows would cry out with a creaky groan, wake him so the youth may find comfort in warmth, curl into fur a rich brown and pale cream.

Pushed aside, not allowed to linger for more then seconds. Slow pass of paw, movement restricted and between passage and him does attention move, seeking slight twitch, signs of waking. Triangle of light, silver spread within thin space before it is blotted out, small body escaping through break between door and frame. Soft snap of door finding its place, groan of boardwalk as he moves, first steps weary as pace is set. Upon the curve of head ears flatten, groan raising once more, tongue touching upon lower lip. Too loud is it, beat of hearts about him, slow in their tempo for sleep has taken many, allowed them some small peace but one is present, quick beat, tempo pressed to the curve of ribs. Drawn is he to it, feeling the worry in ragged heart, unease to chuckle that finally reaches him.

“Wha...?” Soft exhale, eyes finding his own, grown soft as they touch upon child. Small stature, gentle creature of soft angles and planes, but behind pressure lips teeth wait. No warning is given before tiny body is suddenly leaping, claws needles digging into throat, the press of teeth following behind. The last sound of the late night wanderer is a gurgle, rasping breath struggling as growl his own raises around mouthful of flesh, tearing with little hope. Long minutes pass, breath becoming louder until – a scream.

It is the last the Havener utters before their throat is open, ragged wound he latches onto, drawing upon the blood with vicious zeal. The eyes which look out upon the world are hard and cold, the child nothing but a shadow clinging to the deceased. Long minutes, passage of time he counts with the frantic beat of heart locked in his chest, faint whimper escaping when finally he releases the throat. Pushing down he is scrambling away, the first tears making tracks through crimson smeared about his face. “No, no, NO!” Sudden outcry, echoing through all with minds left unprotected in the depth of sleep, scream, ragged and broken, given to the gravel of damage, tearing through his own throat.

He never wanted to hurt anyone, why was it like this, why was he a monster.

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[glow=#000,1,400]I NEED IT TO STOP SO LET ME TELL YOU PLEASE — ✧[/glow]

[GORDON CIPHER.]

The scream that the NPC uttered is what made Gordon stop in her tracks, her eyes wide as she tried to search for the source of the sound. It always seemed like she was the one around whenever bad things happened, but she was a high position here - she was expected to know the going-on's of the clan as well as being there whenever things happen. Gordon's legs trembled as she followed the scent of blood, her ears pinning against her head as she tried to prevent herself from gagging from the smell.

Gordon stared at Harland through the bushes, her heart pounding in her chest. Had he... killed this person? The she-cat allowed herself to stare at the dead body before she tore her gaze away from it, staring at Harland. There was no doubt about it - he had murdered his own clanmate. "H-Harland!" She called out, emerging from her hiding spot. She puffed her chest out, trying to seem much more in control over her fear than she really was. "S-stop it." God, she hated how much she stammered in her words and inwardly winced at the way she sounded. The Goldenblood still continued forward, trying to reach up as much as she possibly could and bat HARLAND's paws away from his throat. Regardless of whether or not she was successful, she would say, "Explain yourself."

★ where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you ! ━

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="width:450px; font-size:8.6pt;line-height:1.2; color:#000;font-family:calibri;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:.5px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]Explain yourself.

Sharp crack of sound, words spoken within the form of an order, tremor behind words lost upon the child left trembling. Some distant part of his mind registers the contact, sudden movement to push him back and so he goes, stumbling in his haste. Upon his hindquarters he fell heavily and once more broken sound rose. He could feel it, the stickiness of blood that had spilled over chin and chest, the warmth of it soaked into dark fur. Yet all he wants is to wash it away, remove the stain of it from him but no such action is made.

For a time Harland could only look upon the body, gentle the moans that rose, every few breaking into a hiccup. Savage was it, the skin of the throat torn for his own teeth were not suited to such work though the incisors had grown a great deal more than they should, given a finer point then the rest. I didn't mean to... Pleading, thought a faint murmur of sound pushing through static of thought, a mantra repeated over and over. There seemed no end as the simple words were projected out, the Fireball drawing further into himself with each he completed until he finally fell upon his side.

I'm a monster. Memory drawn behind final words, moments left fuzzy for he had minimal recollection but for all who cared to view it the day was there. The warmth of sun, golden spill of light across the grassy plane stretching before the observatory that had become his home, gentle hum as he had walked, idiotic child. Sudden was it, the shift of sight as his body was slammed into the ground, handled roughly until he was screaming, fighting as teeth fixed around his own throat. All at once it was gone, memory breaking apart into darkness. If the meaning of such an attack may be understood clear might such actions be, those of a vampire that had been starving, the clear indent of ribs and hips speaking of such, but such was not something he might ever have control over.

[buckingham barnes]

When Bucky's tired eyes opened to the night breeze against his fur, his gaze landed on his front door, which was left open. It swayed back and forth from the breeze, and with a quick scan of his boathouse- Harland wasn't anywhere to be seen. And Harland's scent trailed out of the door, it was still fresh, but was going faint too. Bucky must have been asleep, the one time he sleeps during the night, when Harland snuck past him. I have to go find him, He thought to himself as worry began to swirl in his chest- how far did Harland go? Did he leave the sea-village, head out into the territory? Oh god, if something happens to Harland it will be his fault, he'd never forgive himself! He brought his brother here to be safe, not to wander off and become prey for some larger animal! Without another thought, the male jumped off of his bed and began to head to his front door- when he heard a scream. Not long after, the smell of blood reached his nostrils- Harland's scent entangling with it. Fuck!

Without another thought, the Warden was running, heading towards the scents. His paws moved as quickly as they could, the maine coon feeling his heart beat worryingly in his chest. When he finally arrived at the scene, skidding to a stop, he wasn't the first one to arrive. His gaze landed on Gordon, a goldenblood who he knows is squeamish towards blood, who was trying to keep Harland from hurting himself. Bucky found himself making his way over to the two, glancing at the corpse for a moment. His gaze was pulled away from the corpse when Har's pleading words projected in his mind. "I didn't mean to..." The words were set on a repeat, Bucky's gaze snapping towards his brother- who was on their side again. Harland did this? Bucky could see the blood on his muzzle and chest, blood dripping onto the boardwalk. At first, Bucky had no idea what to say or even think, how could a child like Harland do this? But as he looked more closely at the blood, how it stains his muzzle, the pieces began to come together.

Is Harland... a vampire? Bucky had his fair share with vampires in his past- his first original clan was full of them. And then, they became his enemies once he got brainwashed by an enemy clan- which became his home for a long time, even after he got his identity back. Buckingham knew vampires needed blood to survive, and that their instincts can take over if they're in a desperate need for blood. It actually reminds him of the Winter Soldier- while the Soldier doesn't take over for the urge for blood, it can be destructive as hell. Bucky has done things as the Winter Soldier that he'd never do in his right mind. Harland seemed to be going through something similar to that, Harland doesn't seem like a person who'd murder just for the hell of it. Something must be out of the child's control, an inner instinct taking the reigns in order to survive.

"I'm a monster."

"Har..." The Warden spoke up slowly, as he got himself closer, crouching onto the ground so he didn't seem much bigger than the young feline. Harland seemed shaken up, it was clear as day that Harland didn't mean for this to happen. This attack, it wasn't filled with hatred and evil like the murder committed by the 'lion with an injured eye'. That murder was full of intent, it was the Ascendants showing Sunhaven that they'll stoop even lower after their treatment & half-ass apologies got the alliance dropped. This on the other hand, it's not even the same. Harland was calling himself a monster, seems petrified & shocked by what he did. Bucky hated hearing Harland call himself a monster, especially at such a young age. "You are not a monster," He tried to reassure the child, attempting to gently grab Harland's shoulder, "You didn't mean to do this, this wasn't in your control. A monster is someone who intends to hurt people, and knows they meant to do it. That isn't you, Har." But someone was still dead, the male glanced back over at the corpse, knowing that they'll have to bury another member.

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="width:450px; font-size:8.6pt;line-height:1.2; color:#000;font-family:calibri;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]“No...” Gentle word, pressing about the curve of his thoughts, lips moving only to utter a soft whine. Thoughts encircled him, a chaos of light and sound, too much. Entangled within it memory, moments playing upon loop until they grew disoriented, colour bleeding into one another. Familiar the pressure, the weight of him pressing lightly against his shoulder, gripping it though there is no intent there speaking of harm. Unconscious are his movements, body lifting some as head moves, leaning into the touch.

This wasn't the way it should be, none of this should have ever happened.

The savage twist of knife, reality filling the spaces left by the faint want, almost enough yet never quite pushing him to act all the way. Pulling away, the heat of the touch fading as the chill of night air curls about Har once more, drawn instead closer. Mistake. About him the stench, copper and iron drawn into one yet beneath it something more, a thread of almost sweetness dancing about him, the sound from him shuddering and weak, caught between want and fear. “Please... don't want to hurt... never want to hurt...”

Disjointed and broken, edges crackling as thoughts re once more lost. Beneath it, the ache of hunger drawn across the lining of his stomach, the thread is gone. Second passes, another following, moments enough for his mind to latch onto the possibility, a rabid dog uncaring for any who are hurt, merely wanting. No warning just the sudden raise of body lurching forward, so small in comparison, teeth finding purchase about shoulder. Bone, too close beneath to get much and yet he continues, dragging his teeth down, tearing at the flesh until it leaves it a ragged mess. It is there he stops, jaws tight about the shoulder of the one he deemed brother, the salty tang of tears spreading across his tongue, washing away the blood.

“No, no, no,” mantra repeated, words pushed through the haze of screaming thought, uneasy words spilling forth with no real structure, wordless jumble conveying only the panic. As jaws open paws lift, so small as they press against the torn skin, trying to hold it back together, each breath a ragged sob. Never does he realise part of the blood upon him is his own, leg weeping once more, the blood within his system not yet given time to break down, a slowed metabolism both a curse and a blessing at times. “I'm sorry.”

What more is there, what words might express the turmoil working through him. Shuddering breath and slowly Har is leaning in, head resting atop his paws, still clutching at Bucky's shoulder. Faint is the realisation of pain, the twist of heat about his own shoulder but such would be considered at another time, faint trickle of blood leaving a trail of crimson along black fur.

[ permission granted to powerplay attack & transfer of part of the injury ]

[GORDON CIPHER.]

The telepathic voice in her mind made her tense up more, though before she could say anything, Buckingham made his way over. Gordon felt a small wave of relief crash over to her as the maine coon came over, though she still couldn't shake the feeling of fear for Harland's wellbeing as Bucky talked to him. Something was clearly off about Harland - shock, perhaps? - but Gordon had no idea what she could do to help.

Suddenly though, Harland turned his head and tore at his own shoulder and Gordon quickly jumped back in alarm, her eyes wide as she stared at the Fireball. Gordon shook her head slightly as she heard Harland's telepathic voice again, closing her eyes as she tried not to focus too much on the blood around her. "I-I'll go get Marina," She squeaked out to Bucky, mostly wanting a reason to leave the scene. Without waiting for a reaction, the Goldenblood took off in search for the leader.

[member=1806]MARINA M.[/member]

★ where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you ! ━