ROOTS | open, feral/murder

[CORRUPTTIMELINES]

( tw gore )

”Hello, Corrupttimelines. You should know you won’t be escaping me anytime soon.”

The cold and calculated voice rang into his head, his eyes clenching shut as he threw back another bottle of vodka. His throat burned and a sickening gleam appeared in his weary gaze. Sharp teeth would bare, his head lashing backwards as if facing someone. Then, the wyvern would stand in a failed attempt to force the one in his mind to cower. However, he took a dull note in their existence and lack thereof. His jaw tightening like a rotted hinge, he would emit a less than soft snarl.

“Get away from me. Get out of my fucking head!” he snapped with a newfound fury overwhelming him. Then, the dragon would sit back down, staring at the floor. As if in auto pilot, his head snapped to the floor for a few moments.

And then it happened.

Cory was standing above a rogue’s body, staring at them with a deeply possessed disgust. It was as if he wasn’t even there, as if there was some sort of disconnect between himself and the real world. Then, his eyes slowly drifted to blink, and he was reborn into the same body.

“Fuck. Not again...” he muttered half heartedly, drawing his tongue over blood drenched limbs. Then, he huffed out a quiet breath and smirked. It felt good and yet terrifying all in the same manner.

code by spacexual

[michael t.]

What the hell was with people lately? Michael knew full well that he couldn't say too much, considering he had killed and drained a Coalition trespasser following the raid. However, that didn't mean he was a big fan of how things were going. He had thought that the violence would be toned down with the Coalition gone, not go up. In this case especially, he found himself doubting Cory's sanity, and whether the wyvern was even safe to have within The Typhoon. Some would argue that Roxie wasn't safe to have around either, thanks to his cannibalistic nature, but at least his sister seemed to have a stable head on her shoulders – somewhat, anyways. Cory, by contrast, was a drunken newcomer and maniac who now was evidently prone to random violence, a combination of things that immediately set the dealer on edge. Michael's steps were short as he made his way over to where Cory and the dead rogue were, drawn over by the unpleasant scent of a decaying corpse on the air. His nose wrinkled as he grew closer, unnerved by the sight of Cory's little smirk. The body wasn't even good for drinking from, considering what a mess the wyvern had made.

After a moment of standing there silently, Michael cleared his throat to alert the other to his presence, a frown on the bobcat's muzzle. He muttered softly, eying the rogue's corpse as he spoke, "Hey, Cory... so. What exactly was the purpose of this?" He gave the body a little jab as he said that, before withdrawing his paw and shaking a bit of blood off of it. He then grumbled, his bob of a tail twitching behind him, "Maybe we should've just let Rift take all your booze away. I hope that you don't make a habit of this..." Perhaps someone else would've been frightened at the prospect of making Cory angry, since it was obvious it didn't take much for the other to get violent. However, the dealer knew that if Cory even tried doing anything to him, he would have the whole of The Typhoon on his ass, ready to maul him right back.

[CORRUPTTIMELINES]

A voice.

His head lashed around, prepared for it to be fleeting as well. However, this one didn’t vanish into thin air. This voice was connected, apart of an intricate system. It was tied into a neat little bow throughout the air, weaving into the wyvern’s preceptors. However, disappointment came tangled with it. Deeply rooted and twisted like a sickening concoction, it would taunt at him. Although his reaction prior was that of violence from taunts, an eerily calm manner took its form upon his head.

“You do not understand. Nor will you ever. I have experienced the likes of which I have no ability to remember,” he told the former, his piercing gaze trailing to the anonymous creature below. A faint recognition swirled in his mind, and then darted away as fast as it came. Then, Cory would huff angrily at the mention of his coping mechanism.

“If I had any of my stronger liquor, this corpse wouldn’t be at my feet. Your people are safe. The ones I cannot remember are not,” he said numbly, shaking his cranium to and fro as he shoved the corpse away. Disgust once again traced his features, his body tucking into itself. Then, he sighed. “Do you have the slightest idea what it is like to exist and not exist simultaneously? To know you’ve lived eight years of pure hell upon some planet and cannot remember any of them?”

code by spacexual

[ROSEMARY]

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The witch’s four eyes narrowed onto Cory as she crept forward. The healer inhaled a deep breath; she paced in place behind Michael, her front paws tapping the ground nervously. Rosemary was not unused to violence—being around Michael and Roxanne gave her enough experience dealing with random enemy’s bodies showing up—so the gore and the dead rogue weren’t the issue.

Instead, Cory’s impossible to follow train of thought puzzled her. And, of course, that he seemed unhinged, whether alcohol was involved or not.

“That doesn’t sound like a purpose. You never did answer Michael’s question.” Rosemary’s main eyes slanted further. Her forked tail flicked, and she sighed. Her smaller eyes darted to the dead body, and she had to wonder if this stranger had been a joiner or merchant—it wasn’t as though Cory killed an active enemy.

“Well, as for the question you just asked, Cory, I can’t say that I have. However, that sounds… hard. Perhaps you need help dealing with such a mental and emotional strain?” The ocelot didn’t want to outright say therapy, considering how many people tended to balk at something as simple as talking about their problems, but the dragon clearly had a marble missing.

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PEACEFALL

peace comes at dawn, but yours comes at night

[Grimm]

[div style="margin: auto; max-width: 475px; padding: 5%; min-height: 20px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 17px;"]Echoing hollow, segments crudely carved into with graceless hands, the knife bearing no care for the destruction wrought. To forget, those depictions of moments suspended among fraying threads of thought delicate and prone to repair with fabrication, a consequence of existence. Different this, by product of intent or event that rang with a dour note, repressed that tied to origin point. Which the draconic beast was subject to only uneducated guesses may be made, no truth alluded to in such senseless digging, carved that tissue of scar knit across grey matter rather than external skin.

He understood, better then clumsy tongue may formulate. Too many the years locked behind fortified walls constructed in his mind, some lost of volition beyond his own, a common ground he would not speak of with any. The blood that which drew lumbering beast forth, familiar the copper lodged in throat, trailing there against the space between it and mouth, painted along roof until it was all he may taste. Innocent his first assumption, a meal that necessitated butchery, or another with injury that needed tending, far the reality until scene unfolded before narrowed vision.

"Sinnloser Mord bringt keinen Frieden." A husk within death, reduced to little more than a broken and limp figure, silhouette beyond the easy identification of prior being. Over eyes rove, a study he does not shy from, before attention turns. Addressed Cory, low the rumble of his voice, slowed as tested each word before spoken aloud. "Finish job. Bury." Known the state of some, their diet more inclined towards those of sentient intelligence that make them alike any within each community, apparent this was not the cause. Wrong the consummation of one caught unawares, visited upon by a death that took too much.

[Alexandre]

The commotion in the distance set alarms off in his head. Scents of salt began to taint his sinuses, causing him to lurch forward impulsively towards the smell. Voices of disdain, misunderstanding, and misery filled his ears. Alexandre pushed on with his orange gaze set in the distance, notably spotting Michael's dark silhouette colliding with the daylight. As the group sharpened in his view, his paws halted to a stop. 

His heart dropped. Alexandre's eyes pierced into the sight of crimson. The kitten reveled in the madness. Alabaster canines revealed themselves as his mouth fell agape. He unconsciously stepped forward past Michael and Rosemary, looking up at Corruptedtimelines with a weary gaze and then back down at the blood pooling at his brunette paws. The boy's claws instinctively grabbed at the ground below, frustration and confusion festering within his mind.

A soft gust of air left his throat. No words came. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, only to turn and disappear into the shadows moments later. Too much.

[ROXANNE R.]

Roxanne had cannibalistic tendencies but she kept that under the wraps and hadn't exactly struck out to kill anyone, no, she had to be levelheaded as the captain... She was aware of this and said captain would make her way over with her snout wrinkling at the smell of blood, she noticed that there was a small group of some familiar faces and a new one that she has yet to meet. She found a frown on her maw as she stepped forward to take a stand beside Rosemary, her eyes fixated onto the body of the rogue feeling the saliva beginning to build up on the roof of her mouth though she cleared her throat nodding in agreement to what Emil said "Go give them a proper burial, Cory..." Her eyes turned to notice Alexandre having to see such a sight made her feel guilt, it was enough to snap her away from her hunger for the flesh that lay in front of her.

She would have to make sure that he was alright later but her mismatched gaze would turn to Rosemary with her ears twitching at what she was saying. "I'd reccomend it... Just so we can avoid this," Roxanne would glance over to the corpse only to say with a light shake of her cranium "This time it was a rogue, a possible joiner or a merchant. The next time you could end up injuring a crewmate and it would be for the best if you sought out help to avoid that." If it ever got to that point where Cory would end up hurting one of his own crewmates, Roxanne would have to intervene and if he got out of control... Well, she'd either have to kill or exile him, which wasn't something she wanted to do as of right now.

[michael t.]

YOU NEVER GAVE UP ON ME; WHY DON'T YOU?
I'LL NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU SEE; WHY WON'T YOU?

Cory's words made little sense to Michael's rattled mind, not that they would've made much more sense if the dealer was completely calm and thinking straight. He had been stressed enough already as of late, and to have the wyvern now rambling on about the most insane nonsense he had ever heard... Michael nearly told him to shut the fuck up. However, he knew better than that. Instead, the thief took a deep breath inwards, letting it out slowly before he shook his head, muttering to Cory with narrowed blue eyes, "Cory... I have no goddamn idea what you're talking about. You sound like you're high, or something. Clearly you need some sort of help, or maybe just a nap." The bobcat then shrugged his shoulders a little, not particularly caring which the other chose. As long as this little incident didn't happen again, Michael would be happy. It seemed as though that sentiment was shared with most of the rest of those who had gathered, including Roxie.

As Alexandre turned and wandered off from behind the crowd, the dealer just shook his head, tone harshening a bit, "I agree with Rosemary and Roxie. Get some damn help, cause if any of my pups end up subjected to this shit because of you, I can assure you there's gonna be hell to pay." Michael then just shook his head, shooting a brief glance at his sister before he turned to walk away. He had no interest in helping Cory bury the body, considering the other had caused this whole mess all on his own. It only seemed proper that he clean it up all on his own, too.

( out! )

— Reggan

[CORRUPTTIMELINES]

Voices. So many of them. They scrambled up to his ears and rattled his brain, eyes turning into delicate slits. He caught Rosemary’s gentle nudge to seek help, but found it worthless to him. Who was he? Well, Cory couldn’t answer that too well. A gruff sigh passes his lips. “I know them. I don’t know how I know them, but the familiarity is alarming. I was...a rogue before coming here. Loads of horrendous things occurred,” he responded, agitation passing through his tone in minor quantities.

Emil was here again, he noticed. Finish the job. For some reason, disgust built in his throat at that. Finish the job by burying them? Cory could’ve scoffed, but refrained. It wasn’t worth it. This person held no value in his brain. Why should he care for them?

A child.

A kitten had stumbled across the scene, staring for a moment and then promptly leaving. An unfamiliar face and no voice to pair with it. Clenching his jaw shut, he nodded to Roxanne as she ordered the same. Michael was ignored by the beast, seeing as he didn’t care to heed his warning. Cory knew he wouldn’t hurt a child. Never again.

“Therapy is of no help to me. There is no recovery to my ailment.”

code by spacexual

[ROSEMARY]

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“Well, when was that last time you tried?” Rosemary replied, quirking a brow and widening all four eyes in blatant exasperation. Between Brandy and Riftweaver, she’d had enough of people who needed therapy ignoring her advice. Now the Typhoon had a murderer who couldn’t explain why he’d killed, and she’d never seen such a sorry excuse for a cretin in her whole life.

“How you describe the memory issues with your time outside of the Typhoon sounds like trauma. Specifically, complex-ptsd, as you’ve implied it happened over a long period of time and you’ve repressed the memories themselves.”

The trembling healer grit her teeth and her smaller eyes glanced at Roxanne, Emil, and Michael—fuck, he left—to back her up. Goddammit. Who left in the middle of a dangerous mental breakdown? Who does that?

She refocused completely on Cory. Her tongue swiped across her teeth, and she inhaled to steel herself. “The health and safety of everyone in the Typhoon is my priority. I cannot, in good consciousness, allow someone with a senseless violent streak to wander around the Typhoon freely, especially if you won’t even try to address the source of the problem.” Her forked tail flicked, tangling within itself, until it lashed through the air.

“I know it’s difficult to face your demons. But the hurt done to you? That doesn’t excuse the hurt you do.”

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PEACEFALL

peace comes at dawn, but yours comes at night